


A Hylian Romance

by sillythings



Category: The Legend of Zelda: Breath of the Wild
Genre: F/M, breath of the wild - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2019-02-01
Packaged: 2019-03-26 20:23:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 15
Words: 55,695
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13865346
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sillythings/pseuds/sillythings
Summary: As are many, I was intrigued by the Sheikah court poet and what his perspective on Link and Zelda's relationship might be.





	1. Chapter 1

There was so much more scope for the imagination and romance in the royal castle of Hyrule, far more than the pumpkin fields of Kakariko, Chanson thought to himself as he surveyed the loyal subjects and guests who gathered in the Sanctuary of Hyrule Castle.  

 

King Rhoam was presiding over an official visit from the leaders of the four kingdoms of Hyrule, and as such there was to be an official welcoming ceremony for the Zora, Gerudo, Rito and Goron people.  Chanson, newly appointed court poet, would be expected to perform a song of friendship and welcome during the ceremony, as well as sing the ancient song of the events of 10,000 years ago when the four kingdoms had come together to destroy Calamity Ganon with the aid of the Sheikah technology.  He could scarcely believe that Hylia had blessed him with the good fortune to have rediscovered the song.  With his music and knowledge of the ancient legends, he had aided the hard working scientists in the tech lab in discovering the purpose for many of the newly uncovered artifacts, offering context and purpose with his poetry when no other clues could be derived through scientific methods.  Now, here he stood in the royal Sanctuary of Hyrule about to partake in a ceremony that would not only bind the kingdoms together, but would also honor the Sheikah for their technology and songs.

 

Proud Sheikah though he was, Chanson was at heart a village boy with a head full of songs and unused to such pomp and grandeur.  He nervously plucked at the strings of his lyre, making sure it was in tune before he performed. He scanned the great hall, his eyes drinking in the sights before him, such sights that might inspire a thousand verses.  

 

The ladies of the court made for far better muses than the dutiful girls back in the villages, scrubbing floors for their grannies and tending their father’s shops.  The princess Zelda, for example, solemn with a noble light in her green eyes inspired a man, brought poetry to the soul.  More than that, she had the education and wit to appreciate a romantic lyric, unlike Laura and Bea back home.

 

“Silly boy,” Laura had laughed when she and Bea would come upon him strumming his harp and gazing upon the statue of the goddess in the center of the village. 

 

“Love isn’t nearly as fussy as you make it out to be.” Her brown eyes sparkled with fun, but it was fun directed at him.  It quite spoiled the mood.

 

“Just tell her she’s pretty and take her for a walk when the plum trees are in bloom,” she had winked and shifted the basket of vegetables she carried higher on one hip.  “You’ll see that’s all there is to it!”

 

That had worked well enough with Laura herself once, but while it had been a very enlightening evening under the blossoming trees, the sweet gardener clasped in his arms, it had lacked a certain poetry.  Lips and sighs were certainly the stuff of romance, but less so was Laura’s stern command that he stop reciting lyrics and “get on with it.”  The bees that buzzed around the blossoms could have made for a pretty verse, but not so much when they buzzed dangerously close to exposed flesh.   No, there had to be more to love than a slightly sweaty roll in the grass.

 

Bea’s romantic advice attempted to capture the spirit of the thing at least, though she still missed the mark.  

 

“Love is easy!  You don’t need all those songs.  If you want a girl, just put a lizard down her back.  When she screams, you can save her and play the dashing hero,” she gasped dramatically, one hand thrown on her brow in an imitation of a swooning maid.

 

Nothing could make that one swoon, he was sure.  He was also sure it was Bea who hid a restless cricket in his pen box.  When he had opened it in the village square to scribble a verse inspired by the fine eyes of a visiting dignitary come to consult with the village elder, the cricket had flown at his face before getting caught in his silvery topknot.  Such an unmanly shriek he had given, and the girls had giggled for days over the memory.  

 

Princess Zelda never giggled.  With such dignity and calm, she was like the statue of Hylia made flesh.  Pale and kind, she would gaze benevolently over her kingdom quite unlike the round cheeked Bea who found as many reasons to laugh as there were stars in the sky.  No, love was no laughing matter and one did not write poetry just to woo pretty girls into kissing him -- though that was a nice side effect sometimes.  

 

He had a hard time forgiving Bea for that cricket stunt, especially when he found out the dignitary who had served as his all too brief muse was there to meet him, HIM, of all people.  There were portents of the return of Calamity Ganon.  The Sheikah researchers had been working tirelessly in the Royal Tech lab rebuilding the ancient technology so recently excavated.  It had been suggested that the ancient legends and songs might assist the scientists in discovering the purpose of such artifacts, a beautiful fusion of science and art.  Impa, the wise Sheikah maiden who served as an advisor to the royal family, had suggested that Chanson travel to the castle since there was no one else in all of Hyrule who had a better mastery of the ancient songs.  What an honor!  

  
  


It was shortly after arriving at the castle that he had been appointed official royal poet, no mere troubadour wandering from realm to realm.  His role as a member of the household was an honor he had dared never dream of, and he was an important member of the tech team as well.  Even Dr. Purah and Dr. Robbie appreciated his insights, but best of all, oh best of all, his days were filled with poetry and song.  He had access to the royal library and had a team of assistants there to help sort and categorize and translate.  It was a dream come true.

 

His evenings were spent at court, entertaining the king and the nobles who joined him for supper.  Sometimes the King’s daughter joined the evening revels, if her priestess duties or her travels did not prevent it.  They often did, however.   She had recently returned from an official state visit to Death Mountain, a journey that had meant she was away from the castle for many days, but she was sure to be at this important event.  

 

When the princess finally emerged to stand next to her father on the dais, Impa at her side,   Chanson felt his heart beat a little faster.  He wondered how the Royal Guardsmen standing so near to her could keep their eyes staring straight forward, faces stern.  The one on the left, Link, stood like a statue, impassive and motionless.  The guards stood so close to this reincarnation of Hylia herself. They could not possibly be unmoved.  How could any man of flesh and blood not see her and be enchanted by her golden beauty?

 

_ Zelda.  _  How musical a name.  It was meant for poetry, and so the princess Zelda in all her incarnations had been so honored in verse throughout the ages.  How many princesses had come before her with the same name, the same beauty?  Nay, her beauty was hers alone, but she truly had the soul of a goddess.  What higher calling could a poet have? Chanson had once thought he loved Laura, but _ new love puts flight to the old _ , as the wisdom of the ancients goes. Laura was in Kakariko, tilling the soil and tending her garden, and so she would toil from season to season.  But here in Hyrule Castle was a lady worthy of song who would not laugh at his verses and tell him to get on with it.

 

Indeed, Princess Zelda did not often laugh.  She was sober-minded and focused upon her sacred duties and scientific studies.  The Sheikah in him admired the latter and the poet in him found the former inspiring.  She had no time for catching crickets and putting them down people’s backs, thank goodness, and she did not chuckle at ribald jokes told around the cook fire.  The Princess Zelda was all that a princess of legend should be.  She was clever, solemn and lovely, and Chanson intended to honor her with the finest music and verse, poetry that would keep her alive throughout the ages.

  
  



	2. Chapter 2

Chanson’s favorite duty since arriving to the castle was reciting the ancient stories of the numerous defeats of Calamity Ganon aloud to Princess Zelda whenever the opportunity arose.  His heart thrilled when he sang to the lovely princess, recounting stories of her ancestresses, those skyward bound and steeped in twilight.  

 

To be sure, the poet did not often get the chance to sing these legends of honor and glory to her.  Studious and devout, the Princess Zelda could most often be found at the various altars and springs sacred to Hylia or, perhaps rather more often than King Rhoam would like, in the Royal Tech Lab or her private study.  To Chanson’s chagrin, the princess tended to avoid court, escaping the walls of the castle whenever the opportunity arose, and he rarely had a reason to follow her unless summoned to the tech lab by the Sheikah researchers.  If pressed, he would have to admit that the princess did not give the appearance of enjoying the courtly life, which quite confused Chanson at first.  He very much enjoyed the pageantry and ceremony that was part and parcel of the royal household, but he was not long at the castle before he heard the whisperings and he began to realize why the princess avoided attending courtly engagements.  

 

A champion had already been revealed to the kingdom, a bright, dashing hero chosen by the sword.  The young guardsman, Link, had wandered alone in the Lost Woods and returned with the sword of legend grasped in one shaking fist.  No one knew what trials he had undergone to claim such a prize.  The boy would speak of it to no one, a fact that irritated Chanson to no end.  Such was the stuff of a legendary song.  What a verse he could write if he only had a few details, but Link remained mum.   Worry and fear spread throughout the kingdom.  Surely, Calamity Ganon’s return was at hand, and their princess, the reincarnation of Hylia, the one who must save them all, had no power to call her own.

 

Everyone knew her grandmother heard the spirit voices, and Zelda’s royal mother was known to commune with Hylia whilst bathed in golden light.  Princess Zelda was far more likely to be bathed in the blue light of the Sheikah slate than by any divine glow.  The people were frightened.   _ If only _ , the court whispered,  _ if only she could be more like her mother, more like the boy...Link _ .  

 

And so, Chanson was dispatched by the king to sing to the princess, to inspire her with the tales of the princesses of Hyrule who had triumphed over the Calamity thousands of years before.  While the princess knew most of the histories very well, the King was adamant that every version, every variation should be heard and analyzed by the princess in the hopes that some missed insight might be discovered which would help his daughter discover her divine powers.  

 

This sunny afternoon Chanson sang one of his favorite renditions of the calamity’s defeat while the princess and two of her ladies-in-waiting put the finishing touches on the royal garb to be bestowed upon the champions chosen to pilot the Divine Beasts.  Though King Rhoam had specifically asked the poet to emphasize songs and poems that spoke of the ancient princesses’ sealing power, the verses regarding the Divine Beasts and the guardians intrigued the current princess the most, and while she sewed and clipped threads, she interrupted Chanson frequently, asking him to repeat certain verses that described the beasts and the guardians.   She was hoping for some further  insight into their workings beyond the scientific notes Purah and Robbie sifted through in the Royal Laboratory.  

 

_ The kingdom of Hyrule is a vast and storied land, Oft grasped in the palm of a villainous hand _

 

_ A dark force of destruction, many times undone/Rises once again -- Ganon, the calamitous one. _

 

_ But hope survives in Hyrule, for all is not lost, Two brave souls protect it, no matter the cost. _

 

_ A Goddess-blood princess and a fearless knight, They appear in each age to fight the good fight. _

 

“Yes, when will that fearless knight appear,” the princess remarked with impatience, looking out the window at the position of the sun in the sky.  “I had hoped to have at least a few moments in my study this afternoon before the evening prayers.”  

 

Chanson did not know how or even if he should answer the princess.  He knew Link had been called to speak with the king.  He had seen King Rhoam bid Link enter the Sanctuary after Chanson had been dispatched to sing to the princess. Though she maintained her regal bearing, it was obvious to most in the castle that the princess had not taken kindly being assigned an appointed knight.  With everything considered, Chanson thought it best to keep any information about Link to himself and continue singing. 

 

_ Their battle with Ganon I’ve committed to song _

_ To keep it through time, no matter how long. _

 

_ Now begins the second verse, listen and you’ll know, Of their battle with ganon 10, 000 years ago. _

 

_ Their efforts bore fruit in an automated force, To help avert Calamity by sealing it at its source. _

 

“There is that word again.   _ Sealing.  _  How do the Guardians seal him at the source?  Does the song tell us what the source is?” The princess asked Chanson, looking up from her sewing box.

 

“No, your majesty, though there is another poem, in the same vein that I could bring next time…” he faltered, hating to be the reason for the hopeful light in her eyes to die.

 

“Yes, that is fine,” Zelda nodded and waved a hand vaguely in his direction. “Please go on.”  She picked up a small notebook she was using to keep the measurements of each champion.  She turned to a new page and picked up her quill.  She hesitated just a moment before she wrote “Link” in a fine script at the top of the page.

 

_ Four giant behemoths for which power never ceased, Each of these titans was called “Divine Beast. _

 

_ And free-willed machines that hunted down their prey/These Guardians were built to last so they could join the fray. _

 

“Built to last and thank goodness for that!” the princess said aloud with a small smile.  Chanson’s heart leapt up.  A smile like sunshine.  He was glad to see it for she had been terribly somber most of the afternoon.

 

_ To guide the beasts in battle, warriors were needed, So four Champions pledged to see Ganon defeated. _

 

_ Divine Beasts, Guardians, princess and knight/Their plan to rout Ganon was looking airtight _

 

Chanson grimaced.

 

“Apologies, princess, for the terrible rhyme…There must be a better way to convey the idea.”  There really must be.  The melody was haunting, but the translations left something to be desired.  Oh, it conveyed the basic plot of the story, but he felt that much of the heart of the tale was lost between the lines.  Chanson made a mental note to try his hand at reworking the lyrics if he could get ahold of the original.  

 

The princess smiled at him again, truly looking at him for the first time since he had entered the room.  He stood a little taller, thankful that he had taken time to comb his hair and straighten his collar before attending her this afternoon. 

 

“It’s a fine rhyme and it’s a sentiment I surely appreciate.  I do hope our plans to rout Ganon shall be as airtight,”  the princess told him, still smiling.  She was kind to say so, but the rhyme was wretched.  He could do better by her.  He would do better.

 

_ And when Calamity Ganon reared its head, Hyrule rose against it/the optimism of Hyrule all the more incensed it. _

 

_ Ganon raged in its assault, boiling with hate, It gnashed it’s teeth and thrashed about, but it was all too late. _

 

_ The Guardians kept the heroes safe through every hour _

 

_ The Divine Beasts unleashed attacks that weakened Ganon’s power. _

 

“Now _that_ is what I like to hear!” The princess was listening to him, truly focusing on the words and the music, and if her expression was anything to go by, she was enjoying it.  Chanson took courage and gave the penultimate verse his best.

 

_ The hero with the sealing sword struck the final blow, and the holy power of the princess sealed Ganon so. _

 

The smile faded from Princess Zelda’s face.  He had not hit a sour note and the ancient melody was a thing of beauty indeed.  He could only hope that one day he could write music as inspiring and noble as that heroic theme.  What had displeased her?

 

“So…” she muttered, almost to herself.  “The holy power sealed Ganon  _ so.”   _ Her frown deepened.  “They never say how, do they?  So…so what?” She wrung her hands together.  “So what? Sew buttons...that’s what I must do rather than commit myself to research that might actually reveal a clear scientific method of sealing Ganon.”  

 

In a small pique of temper, she tossed a spool of silk thread into her sewing basket with far more force than needed.  She threw a guilty glance at her ladies who did not even look up at this.  They had been remarkably silent the entire time they sat with the princess -- not nearly as friendly and chatty as he supposed such maids were supposed to be.  With her training schedule, Zelda did not have much time in court, and she required few attendants when she performed the rituals that were supposed to unlock her power.  Any spare time she had was spent in field study and the research of the ancient artifacts.  The ladies would much rather remain at the castle -- sewing, flirting with the lords, learning the latest songs and dance steps.  Chanson was a great favorite of theirs, though he mostly found them to be empty headed and a bit vain.

 

_ And that is the story of the brazen attack, On Calamity Ganon 10,000 years back. _

 

He finished a bit lamely.  The princess’s cheerful mood had darkened, and she busied herself with laying out her sewing supplies, no longer engaging him in conversation.  He began to strum a new song, one that the ladies would recognize as a lover’s lament.  Indeed, they both looked up with a smile with this change in tune.  The ancient sagas were fascinating, but unfortunately, not everyone had the refinement to enjoy them.  It was a simple tune, and Chanson was able to let his mind and his gaze wander as he sang.  He looked over the champion’s garb which had already been completed.  The princess’s workmanship was without flaw, and she had created garments that were fit for heroes.

 

The princess had completed the champions’ Daruk and Revali’s garb first, the Divine Beasts Rudania and Medoh embroidered in fine silk thread on the neckerchief and scarf, respectively.  Both lay folded neatly on the work table.  One lady in waiting was clipping the stray threads from Champion Urbosa’s skirt, while the other was carefully pressing Champion Mipha’s sash.  The Gerudo Chief Urbosa would need a final fitting to make sure the hem of the garment fell properly, but other than that, the champion garb was complete save for one item:  the tunic for the Hylian swordsman and bearer of the sword that seals the darkness, Link.  

 

The princess’s ladies-in-waiting had assisted her with cutting the bolt of royal blue cloth and with the finish work, but otherwise, every stitch of the champions’ garb had been made by the princess Zelda alone.  She had worked feverishly for several weeks already, barely finding time for her devotions, let alone time for her ancient tech research.  She sighed as she rolled out a length of muslin and made sure her shears and measuring string were at hand.  The final piece, and the most complex, would be started that day.

 

Revali and Daruk’s scarves needed only a quick measure around the neck, something the princess had done quickly and easily, as was the measure of Lady Mipha for her sash.  Lady Urbosa’s skirt was a bit more complex, requiring more precise measurement of hip and height.  

 

This tunic though...this would require careful measure, careful cutting and careful fitting even before she began the tedious work of embroidering the piece.  As a swordsman, Link’s tunic must fit well, not too tight or he would not have the range of motion needed.  Not too loose or his movements would likewise be hindered.  It was a challenge for a girl who far preferred tinkering with gears and wires than buttons and thread.

 

There was a knock on the door, and a lady arose to allow Champion Link entrance to the princess’s chambers.  The princess maintained a carefully blank expression, one that did not belie her earlier irritation as she greeted Link, but the ladies in the room cast admiring glances at the young knight.  Even Chanson had to admit he cut a dashing figure in his royal guard uniform.  The boots really were something.  He could tell the ladies liked what they saw, but the champion gave no indication that he saw their sideways glances and hidden smiles.  His face was as carefully composed as Princess Zelda’s.

 

“I apologize for being late, Princess,” Link bowed his head respectfully.  “The king summoned m-“

 

“Yes, well…” Princess Zelda interrupted. “My father is not known for being to the point.”  She seemed to check herself and said more kindly, “It is no matter.  You are here now.  Let’s get started, shall we?”

 

The knight swept off his cap and stood awkwardly in the middle of the room.  

 

“Go, behind the screen there,” the princess gestured.  “Take off your surcoat and...I suppose the tunic as well.”

 

Link stared at the princess for a beat longer than was proper.  It wasn’t everyday that the princess of Hyrule commanded one to strip off in her chambers, so Chanson could understand the hesitation.  However, Link recovered himself without delay and disappeared behind the screen.

 

Princess Zelda fidgeted with her threads and scissors as she waited until Link appeared a few moments later, clad in only his thin linen undershirt and trousers.  He stood, barefoot and shy, waiting for the princess to tell him what to do next. His hair fell into his eyes. He had lost the ponytail when he took off his tunic.

 

Without the uniform, he looked much more like the boy he was although his physique was to be admired.  The short sleeved under tunic revealed the lean solid muscle on his arms which told of many hours of training with the sword.  Playing the lyre had given Chanson calluses on his fingers too, but it did not do much for his muscle definition.  Slim and lithe, Chanson was strong and agile as a Sheikah should be, but he knew his strength could not compare to that of the boy standing before him, standing so still and so silent.  Link did look the part of the hero, even while standing in his undershirt -- Chanson could begrudge him that at least.  The princess’s handmaidens certainly thought so and made little effort to hide their admiration.   Link kept his eyes on the floor.  

 

The Princess took a deep breath and came to stand before the knight.

 

“Well,” she said, her voice high and thin, “Let’s begin.”  

 

Link obeyed her command and extended his arms, allowing the princess to begin measuring him for his champion’s garb.  With a knotted length of string, she took the measure of his broad shoulders, the length of his arms and each bicep.  After each measurement, she paused to mark the figure down in her notebook.  She would work out the pattern in muslin after all measurements had been taken and fit this to the knight before cutting the fine royal blue fabric, lest she waste a scrap of the royal cloth due to a mistake in her calculations.

 

The princess held her mouth in a firm tight line when she reached around to fit the string on Link’s waist.  Chanson saw the boy’s throat work when the princess held the string to his abdomen with one finger.  Chanson did not blame him.  He would probably gulp and gasp himself if the lovely princess laid her tender fingers on his own belly.  He flushed at the thought.  The princess did not appear to notice either the knight or the singer’s discomfiture, focused as she was on her task.  Oh, for a just a moment, to stand in Link’s place.  To have the lovely Princess Zelda lay her delicate hands upon him, to have her sew a garment for him.

 

A rush of envious desire startled Chanson, and he struck a discordant note that rang out unpleasantly in the princess’s chambers.  The ladies-in-waiting looked up from their sewing at the sound, but Link and the princess did not appear to notice.  The knight stared straight ahead, an obedient mannequin being positioned this way and that by Hylia’s avatar, who remained focused on her task, mouth set and unsmiling. 

 

Chanson, mentally chiding himself for such an amateurish error, threw a charming smile at the ladies and set about recovering his rhythm and his equanimity.  Ah!  To feel so intensely was to be alive!  Chanson had not been so stirred since the evening he had seen Laura walking toward the plum orchard with the butcher’s son.  To be sure, Chanson himself had been out walking with Bea at the time, but still, it was the principle of the thing.   

 

The ancient masters always said that  _ he who is not jealous cannot love _ , and that  _ one could never be bound by a double love _ .  A lover should have but one beloved to pursue, and the thought of a rival enjoying the beloved’s charms should inflame the lover with bitter resentment.  That night in Kakariko village, Chanson set his cap for Laura alone after seeing her with another man.  It had been hard to leave her behind, though a few silly crushes on various ladies of the court had soothed his soul and filled his notebook with half-finished sonnets and songs.  Here in the princess’s chamber, the young poet realized a new love had finally put flight the old and that he was quite beginning to resent that young knight who had the honor of the princess’s time and touch.

 

Soon there was only Link’s neck left to measure.  Finally!  Chanson did not think he could bear to stand witness to much more.  The princess swept Link’s sandy hair from his face with a quick methodical movement, and her fingers grazed the bare skin of Link’s throat as she made this one final calculation.  The knight twitched, and the princess dropped her hands and her string.  She stepped to her work table and made a final mark on the page in her notebook.  Her cheeks were very pink.

 

“Thank you, Sir Knight” the princess ducked her head and kept her eyes on the markings in her book. “I will cut the muslin pattern today, and call you in for a fitting as soon as possible.”

 

The knight bowed his head, acknowledging her words and the implied dismissal.  Princess Zelda waved him toward the screen, and he disappeared to dress himself.  The princess stared down at her page of measurements and took a deep breath.  

 

Chanson longed to take her in his arms and offer what comfort he could.  Alas, he was but a humble poet and no way worthy to ever be given such a chance to hold a royal princess close to his thundering heart.  And yet, everyone knew that difficulty in attaining love made it all the sweeter.  There was always hope.

  
  



	3. Chapter 3

_Like courser bees their honey, she makes her words sweet_

_Clever and true,  honestly and charmingly said._

_Her beauty rivals any girl  of Lurelin,_

_Or Cortera and Kaysa  the fairies great._

_Redder than the fruit from when she takes her name,_

_Her lips, a thousand kisses do give._

_Hey nonny, nonny...and..._

 

It was no good.  Hey, nonny, nonny and a tra-la-la.  Helping Robbie win his lady’s heart was not beneath Chanson, exactly, but being surrounded by champions and their call to glory made him less than inspired to write these third-rate verses helping the Sheikah scientist win over Cherry.  There were grander legends to immortalize than a starry-eyed Sheikah lab assistant. Chanson had seen the way Cherry looked at Robbie. Robbie did not need the poet’s words to woo her. Whether in the Tech Lab or out afield, no matter how fascinating the work, no matter how pleasant the company, Cherry had eyes only for Robbie.  Her face lit up when she saw him, and she delighted in the mad little scientist’s enthusiasm for rebuilding the ancient guardians.

 

_It's poetry in motion_

_She turned her tender eyes to me_

_As deep as any ocean_

_As sweet as any harmony_

 

That verse was more like it, though it seemed rather pointless, really, to write a song to win over a woman who was already in love.  Although now that he thought about it, he was not entirely sure that Robbie had shown much overt romantic affection to the girl. Chanson observed people, tried to get inside their boots and see life from a new perspective -- as any good poet should.  When he imagined himself in Robbie’s goggles, he knew that always saving Cherry a space at his work table, praising her work with the tubes and wires and gears had to mean something more than being happy to have assistance in the lab. There were others who worked with Robbie, others who were far more skilled than Cherry, who never received Robbie’s praise.  Even so, even Chanson was not completely sure Robbie loved her until the little scientist pressed, with sweaty fingers, a green rupee into the poet’s palm and asked for a verse to send to his lady. He wondered if Cherry had any idea that her affections were returned. Well, she would not unless he got this song written.

 

_Cherry, Cherry lady_

_Like there's no tomorrow_

_Take my heart, don't lose it_

_Listen to your heart_

_Cherry, Cherry lady..._

 

Chanson sighed.  Maybe he would just give the little song to Robbie gratis.  These verses were not worth even one green rupee, and Robbie’s greedy soul would be glad to have his money returned.  That Robbie persuaded himself to let go of even one coin was a sure sign that his love was true. Robbie and Purah could hold onto their rupees tighter than Vah Medoh gripped its perch.

 

Speaking of Vah Medoh, Chanson could see the Rito Champion, Revali, in the distance, flying toward the Temple of Time.  The champions and the princess had held a private ceremony on the grounds after the the garbing ceremony. Chanson had not been invited attend -- it was for the champions alone -- but to have the opportunity to speak to each hero one on one, to maybe gain insight into their characters, would give him such inspiration and material to write a heroic ballad, a song to honor them all throughout time.  

 

Chanson hoped very hard that he would be granted audience with the champions before they left for their respective kingdoms, for he had all but given up on getting any further detail from the resident Hylian champion, Link.  The young man was taking his new role as the princess’s appointed knight very seriously, as he should, but that meant he had no time for idle chat, and even if he did, he made it very clear that he would not be discussing himself or his destiny to destroy the oncoming Calamity.  Link tended to answer most questions with a nod or a shake of the head. Nearly as often, he would just stare at the asker until they either filled the silence themselves or simply walked away.

 

Of course, the fool boy could spend the best part of an hour arguing with Daruk regarding the correct way to roast a haunch of meat or the finer points of sauteing wild greens so they remained tender-crisp to the bite.  He could also be heard to instruct the younger members of the guard in the art of sword play, but would the hero bother to tell anyone just how he got the sword that seals the darkness? Share the grand adventure he undertook in the Lost Woods?  Noooo. Why should he talk about the one thing everyone wanted to know?

 

Chanson could not believe that Link was unaware of the fascination he inspired in all the kingdom.  The boy could not possibly be that stupid. He was the hero who would save them, the heir to all the other heroes who had come before, paired with a princess to defeat the darkness.  The elders looked upon him with hopeful pride while the young ladies swooned and sighed at his good looks. How lucky they were to have a hero who was capable _and_ handsome.  No lady was more effusive in her praise than Champion Mipha, though Link had more than one admirer.  Not that Chanson was jealous. There was only one lady whose affections Chanson coveted, and she gave no indication that she thought about Link at all.

 

Other young men gazed upon Link with a mixture of relief and envy.  They were glad they were not chosen to save the world, but they certainly would have liked to have the admiration of the kingdom.  Was it arrogance, then, that kept Link’s mouth shut tight? Perhaps he fancied himself too good to talk about his divine appointment?

 

If so, the boy needed to remember himself.  There was no goddess blood in his veins, nor could he claim any royal title.  His father was a guardsman assigned to Fort Hataeno. His mother and sister lived in the nearby village.  Far be it from Chanson to look down on village life considering his own background, but honestly, other than the magical sword and his own skill with the weapon, Link had no reason to think he was better than anyone else.

 

To be fair, the other champions could be arrogant.  Urbosa knew her worth, and Revali was an enormous blow-hard.  However, within the Rito archer, there was an underlying vulnerability.  He desired to be praised for his achievements with the bow and his impressive “gale.”  To be an also-ran to a boy who was born a reincarnated warrior who just happened to stumble upon the sword of legend left a bitter taste in the beak.

 

Chanson empathized with the archer.  It was not just that he had a fondness for the Rito and their songs (though he did).  Chanson, like Revali, had worked tirelessly at his art. He was no wandering minstrel, and the hey, nonny, nonnies of Cherry’s song aside, he was a master musician. His research and hours of study resulted in a mastery of the old songs and the skill to reinvigorate them for a new audience.  He was no foppish fool, capering to entertain the court. He intended to pass on wisdom to a new generation through the power of song. There was truth in poetry, and some truths were best revealed through melody.

 

***

  


“Princess, may I say again, what an honor it was to sing at the garbing ceremony last week,” Chanson smiled, his head bowed in respect.  He knew he was not worthy of her attention, but love had made him bold. “Truly, you will lead the champions well, as Hylia’s descendent must.”

 

Chanson had been lucky enough to catch the princess as she returned from the Temple of Time.  She must have been very tired, but she kindly stopped to hear his plea.

 

She smiled at him, a sweet, sincere smile, though she was a trifle wan.  The last few days had been hard on her. A great weight had been laid upon her shoulders.  Not only must she seal away Calamity Ganon, but she must also serve as the commander for the champions of the divine beasts.  It was enough to make a seasoned soldier quail, let alone a 16-year-old girl. Chanson was all of 18-years-old, a man grown, and he shuddered at the thought of bearing up under such a task.

  


“Thank you,” the princess spoke with a voice low and clear, but she paled and her gaze drifted somewhere just over Chanson’s shoulder.   Did she quiver? It could not possibly be because he was near, could it? All the old songs and poems about love indicated that such could be a symptom of love.  Dare Chanson, a humble poet from Kakariko Village, think he could win the affections of the princess of Hyrule? It was unlikely, but a boy could dream.

 

He continued, breathless and eager, drawing her attention again.  “There are so many beautiful hymns to the goddess I have just recently discovered, songs of the ancients.  I would consider it the highest honor if you would humble yourself to attend me in the music room one afternoon.”  He did not speak in vain. Truly, the divine music composed for Hylia were sublime. He had already spent many happy weeks transposing and adding his own variations.  

 

The princess’s newly appointed knight, Link, came up from behind Chanson and took his post near the princess up.  Chanson felt a moment’s irritation at the boy’s interruption, but he realized that it was Link’s sworn duty to protect the princess at all times.  Chanson was grateful Princess Zelda was so well guarded even though it meant catching a private word with her would be difficult. The ancient poets observed that obstacles in the course of love only increased the enjoyment of the lover when his plight was finally recognized.  Jealousy was good for the heart, in its way.

 

The princess cast a look toward the Royal Tech Lab and opened her mouth, a hesitant kind of sound leaving her lips, “ah…” she began, “well...”   Link, standing stiffly behind her, directed an inscrutable stare at Chanson. The impudent fellow could at least have the decency to cast his gaze elsewhere while Chanson stumbled to find the words to woo the princess to his side.

 

“Oh, please forgive me,  Princess. Please know I do not shirk my duty at the lab.  Dr. Purah and Dr. Robbie have me on call and I attend them in the early morning if I am needed for their research.”  Chanson delighted in this particular duty, in no small part because Princess Zelda frequented the lab most days. However, the work was a fascinating blend of mythology and technology.  His Sheikah soul welled with pride when he saw what the ancients had devised, and it was his memory of the ancient tales and songs that often gave insight into their use.

 

The princess nodded, but she was not looking at Chanson.  Her wistful gaze was directed at the lab.

 

“The lab does take precedence, of course.”  How noble of her to think of duty above the pleasure of song.  

 

“If more convenient for you, my lady, may I play a hymn to accompany one of your daily devotions? Perhaps tomorrow morning?” Chanson asked, eyes bright, a gentle smile on his lips.  To be a part of her sacred rite, to usher her into the realm of the divine with the holy refrains on his harp would be bliss.

 

Zelda stared blankly at the poet, her luminous green eyes unfocused as she considered his request.  Perhaps he had pushed too far. Such a rogue he was, but love made one bold. He longed to spend more time in her presence, and during her devotions he could rightly focus solely on her, the avatar of the goddess, when he sang his paeans to Hylia.

 

She shrugged her narrow shoulders, such a dainty movement, “I suppose it couldn’t hurt,” she said, almost to herself, “Music of the spheres and all that you know.”

 

Oh, he did know!  He was delighted she did too, although he should not be surprised that his erudite lady was schooled in alchemical magic and mystery.  How nice it would be if Link were induced to take some time to swing his sword, or groom his horse or whatever it was a champion did in his spare time, while Chanson played for the princess.  He was certain Link the muscle-bound lunk was unlikely to be moved by the harmonies of the divine.

 

***

 

The morning was very cold.  The sun crept slowly above the horizon, but the courtyard where Princess Zelda knelt in prayer remained in shadow.  Chanson suppressed a shiver and willed his numb fingers to pluck the strings of his lyre. If the princess could kneel on the cold stone, stoic and solemn in her devotions, clad only in her thin white gown, he could suffer the cold and stand vigil with her.  And if Link could stand at attention, back straight and a hand on the sword that seals the darkness, displaying no sign of discomfort, so could Chanson.

 

Although Princess Zelda was a reincarnation of Hylia, the hymns did not quite suit her somehow.  Chanson realized it almost as soon as he struck the first note over the kneeling princess. A traitorous voice in his heart whispered that perhaps the songs did not work because she had no goddess power, at least not yet, but he quickly quelled that idea.  As beautiful as she was in her priestess garb, her head bent and her slim, white hands clasped in prayer, she was downcast and more than a little lost. She did not need hymns, and Chanson racked his brains to find an appropriate accompaniment for the girl.

 

Chanson had seen the princess in the tech lab, eyes bright and hands grubby, as she plied him with questions about the ancient legends, laughing when a new piece of ancient gear suddenly came to life.  It was a stark contrast to the silent girl praying in the cold, gray morning. Waves of desolation were pouring off of her slim figure. He did not know what made him realize this. She had not given any indication of discomfort or grief.  Unlike in the lab where there were facts and science to guide conclusions, Chanson could not have pointed to any action on her part that was less than dignified or devout, but he knew it was true. Just in the way he could tell that Link, with his back turned to the princess, was aware of her every sigh, her every gesture, and though his eyes stared straight ahead, looking into nothing, Chanson knew the knight was watching him too.  He straightened his back and tried to think of another song to inspire the princess, to help her hear the goddess, to bring her some comfort.

 

Chanson focused on the bland, benevolent face of the goddess statue.  Maybe inspiration lurked in the granit. What would Hylia have him play for her descendent?  He considered the songs of the ancients and made a choice. Closing his eyes to concentrate on the unpracticed melody, he began to play.  

 

_Oh youth, guided by the servant of the goddess_

_Unite earth and sky and bring light to the land_

 

_Oh youth, show the two whirling sails the way to the Light Tower_

_And before you a path shall open, and a heavenly song you shall hear_

 

The last note rang out in the courtyard, echoing eerily just as the rays of the morning sun broke over the courtyard.  He heard a loud scraping of metal on stone -- Link had made a sudden motion, dragging his sword on the ground. Chanson looked up from his harp to find the knight staring at him and the princess staring at her knight.  

 

“Was that --” Chanson stumbled a moment, discomfited by the sudden attention.  “Is there anything the matter, princess?” She rose to her feet, stiff and unsteady after kneeling so long.  Link stepped forward to take her arm, but she waved him away, her green eyes fixed on Chanson.

 

“That song,” she said, her voice hoarse after her silent vigil, “You’ve never played that before?”  Link took a step closer to them both, his face open and curious. Amazing to actually see an expression on the boy’s face! “Not for anyone?” she asked. “Not in court, not for anyone?”

 

“No, princess.” He answered her. “And as far as I know, it has never been played in the castle.  At least not for a generation, maybe more. I discovered it in the Royal Library, transcribed onto an ancient parchment.”  Such a glorious, dusty day that had been. He rejoiced at rediscovering the ancient lyric the way some would rejoice over uncovering a treasure chest -- or the way Link rejoiced over the cooking pot.  The princess’s eyes were wide and her golden cuffs caught the light when she unconsciously clenched her fist, a nervous tic he had seen before -- usually when her father was near.

 

She turned to Link. “You know it, don’t you?” she asked, her voice soft.  Link bowed his head, a brief nod, looking up at her from under his mop of hair.  He glanced at Chanson and then back at the princess.

 

“How?” she demanded, “How do you know it?”  The princess trembled, her legs still unsteady.  Chanson and Link both reached for her, but she pulled away, taking a step backwards, eyes still fixed on her knight.

 

“Princess,” Chanson interjected, laying a hand on her forearm, “Perhaps we should get you back to your chambers --”  She had been kneeling in the cold for hours. She needed food and warmth before she collapsed.

 

The princess allowed the poet to take her arm, but before he could escort her out of the courtyard, she wanted one more word with her knight.

 

“Tell me,” she demanded.  Confusion knit Link’s brow and his lips twisted, as he considered his reply.

 

“I don’t know,” he finally confessed, “But I know it’s about us.”  Chanson considered the lyrics he had sung. They had come to him so easily though he had spent very little time with the music and had not practiced it at all.  It almost seemed a divine intervention. He glanced again at the smiling face of Hylia carved in stone. Earth and Sky. Female and Male, united to return light to the land.  Yes, this was song for the servant of Hylia and her knight. Link was right.

 

Zelda laughed, a bitter sound.  “I think you mean for you, _O Youth_!”  The princess was an excellent scholar, but her interpretation of poetry left something to be desired at this moment.  

 

Link’s mouth tightened into a straight line and he squared his shoulders.  “It is a song for you and me both, _O, Goddess_.”  He bowed his head respectfully, contrite for having dared to contradict he princess. The boy interpreted the song correctly, had been moved by the lyrics, but one did not go around telling a princess she was wrong. 

“Well, don’t expect me to guide you, _youth,_ ” she shot back.  “You’ve done fine by yourself so far.”  

 

And with that, she took Chanson’s arm and turned her back on her Link.  She allowed the poet to escort her all the way to her chambers, ignoring her appointed knight who trotted behind.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With apologies to a medieval poet, Thomas Dolby, and Modern English whom Chanson blatantly plagiarized, whether he knows it or not.
> 
> Not as sure about this chapter, but I felt like I needed it to get where I am trying to go. Thank you to everyone who commented on the first two chapters! :)


	4. Chapter 4

There was no denying it.  Chanson was in love. 

 

He did not eat.  He did not sleep.  His heart beat so in his chest princess came near that he thought he may faint.  He had all the symptoms.

 

To be sure, prior to coming to Hyrule Castle, Chanson fell in love at least once a week.  Even in the first month or so of living at the castle, more than one lovely maiden caught his eye.  His feelings for the princess, however, were based upon more than a pair of laughing eyes or a fine figure.  The more time Chanson spent with the princess, the more he realized that there was so much more to admire.

 

He found her beautiful, of course, and her emerald eyes had long haunted his dreams.  However, the dedication she showed as princess and priestess of her kingdom deserved far more praise than her beauty.  Princess Zelda possessed a will of iron which kept her striving in the face of failure. Having once stood guard over her morning devotion, Chanson now understood how she suffered in the attempt to manifest her power.   

 

He longed to tell the princess face to face, to let her know that at least one of her subjects was loyal and saw how hard she worked.  At least one. Maybe two, if he included Impa. The Sheikah woman was a kind and devoted advisor to the girl, but she was also busy with her own duties to King Rhoam and with her own personal duties as well.  She was to be married in a few month’s time.

 

When Impa called Chanson to her chambers to ask him to perform at her wedding ceremony, the poet was surprised.  In this time of unrest, with the return of Calamity Ganon looming, how could she think to wed? 

 

“Would it not be better to wait until the Calamity has been defeated and sealed away?” he asked Impa, who looked up from her  stacks and scrolls of parchment -- invitations to be sent off to her loved ones in Kakariko and beyond. 

 

“I am surprised at you, Chanson!” she scolded.  “Are you not the expert in love? What a question!”

 

He frowned at that.  If he were an expert, he certainly should be having more success in love than he had at present.  Though what was considered success in such matters? Was success in love nothing more than a base conquest?  He remembered that fateful evening of plum blossoms and sighs.

 

No.  There must be more to it than that.  Something more noble.

 

“Oh, Chanson,” Impa smiled, when he did not answer her.  “This is the perfect time to marry.” One hand drifted up to clutch a jeweled pendant she wore around her neck, a gift from her beloved.  “Death awaits us all. Perhaps Calamity Ganon will seal my fate or maybe I’ll be run over by a wagon full of fortified pumpkins the next time I visit my sister in Kakariko.  Should I deny myself a husband and children because I might die? Pshht!” 

 

Impa was such a practical soul, a trait that made her an excellent advisor to the king, but how could he reconcile such pragmatism with romance?  Chanson considered the master poets who served as his guides in such matters. They emphasized the suffering and pain that came from the pursuit of love.  The masters wrote very little about what came after.

 

Impa laughed, her dark eyes bright.  “I most certainly will die! But, oh! How I will live before that time comes!”  She leaned over and patted his knee. “And so should you.”

 

He left Impa’s chambers with a new resolve to woo Princess Zelda.  To profess to her how ardently her admired her, at first with his poetry and song, but eventually, he would make his frank confession.  He knew his love would come to nothing -- at least by Impa’s standards. Even if the princess were to return his feelings, she had her duty to the kingdom, and he would have nothing to offer her except poetry and a house in Kakariko village.  The best he could hope for was time spent in her presence, whenever she could spare a moment, or the chance to win her favor -- a ribbon or a lock of hair.

 

It was tragic, really.  

 

Just perfect for a courtly romance.

 

So resolved, Chanson sought out Princess Zelda, except she was nowhere to be found.  He had not seen her since attending her morning devotions three days prior. After her reaction to the song, he had little hope that he would be invited back.  His music had stirred Link, awoken some long forgotten memory of another lifetime. Even though he did not reach the princess, Chanson could not help but feel pride that his song had resonated with the soul of the hero, even if that soul resided in a shaggy-haired boy with more muscle than brain.

 

Too bad it had so angered Princess Zelda.  At least he had the pleasure of her cool fingers on his arm as he escorted her back to her chambers.  She had turned her beautiful eyes up to his face and thanked him most sincerely, but she did not suggest that he play for her again. 

 

Chanson finally found the princess in the Royal Tech Lab, and in order to have an excuse to stay in the lab, he busied himself translating some markings found on various artifacts for Robbie.  At least he attempted to translate, but it was difficult to keep his eyes on the task when the princess sat so near. She shared a workbench with Purah, where they both hunched over the Sheikah Slate.  She and Purah muttered and argued as they tinkered, but Princess Zelda had eyes for no one and nothing else. 

Her appointed knight stood near, stern and unsmiling as always. Sometimes he craned his neck, just the tiniest bit, trying to get a glimpse at the slate, but the two young women made it difficult for him to see anything.

 

“Jeez, Link!  Step back.” snapped Purah.  “You’re breathing down my neck!”  Link jerked himself back to attention, his brief flicker of curiosity instantly smothered under a stone facade.  “Go help Robbie sort gears or something. That guardian will never be functional if he doesn’t stop staring at Cherry.”  

 

Purah was not known for her tact.

 

Link glanced looked to the princess, seeking her permission.  Purah might be the bossiest Sheikah who ever lived, but Link took his orders from the royal family alone.  

 

The princess waved her hand impatiently, “Oh, just go!” she sighed.  “Make yourself useful. I certainly do not need your assistance.”

 

Link bowed his head and moved down to the other end of the room to help Robbie.  Chanson almost felt sorry for the boy.

 

Almost.

 

Unfortunately, Chanson’s translating skills were not needed for long, and he was dispatched to the castle to entertain visiting dignitaries.  Chanson did not see Princess Zelda again that day.

 

Or the next.

 

Or the day after that.

 

After the third day of not seeing the princess anywhere -- not in court, not in the dining hall, not in the lab -- he began to wonder if something was wrong.  Had she been sent on visit to another realm? It was possible, and Chanson was not privy to much of the business of the royal family. King Rhoam often sent his daughter to Zora’s Domain or Goron City.  It was not unusual for her to be on such a journey.

 

However, it  _ was  _ unusual to see her appointed knight scurrying through the castle corridors, eyes wide, with a look of quiet panic on his face.  Link skidded through the doorway, nearly running full on into Chanson. 

 

“Whoa, there, my fellow!”  Chanson called out, steadying himself against the stone wall.  “What is the matter?” Link pushed past the poet, shaking his head.  

 

“No time!” he called over his shoulder.

 

“Wait!” Chanson shouted toward Link’s rapidly retreating back.  “Where is the Princess?”

 

Link halted and stood stock still in the middle of the corridor, his back tense and straight.  He turned slowly, the wild look on his face gone, replaced by his usual blank demeanor.

 

“Please do not be concerned.” The knight responded.  “The princess is out on a survey and will return shortly.”  He gave a curt nod and disappeared down the corridor and around the corner.

 

“Wait!” Chanson called out again, “Why aren’t you…”  Link was gone. “With her?” The poet’s words echoed down the empty hallway.  

 

Well, well.  The princess had given her knight the slip.  Again. More than once in the last few weeks, Chanson had seen Link hurrying through the castle corridors alone, casting glances into open doorways, clearly searching for something or rather, someone.  

 

The poet made his way to the stables where he found both the princess’s white steed and Link’s brown courser gone from their stalls.  He found a couple of stable workers and had it confirmed that both the princess and her knight had headed off to the east, toward the Gerudo desert, though the princess had set out many, many hours before.  Perhaps Urbosa had summoned the princess, but she should have waited for Link to join her. Chanson’s heart quailed to think of Princess Zelda traveling alone through the desert waste, at the mercy of Lizalfos and Moldugas and worst of all, the Yiga Clan.  

 

“She can’t hardly control that stallion of hers,” the skinny young fellow laughed,  “but she won’t take my advice! A horse is flesh in blood. You don’t just turn it on and drive it like one o’ them machines she’s always working on.  They got feelings, you know!” He patted the nose of a an inquisitive brown mare who had poked her nose over the stall door. “Don’t you, girl?”

 

“She’s a stubborn one,” the farrier spat on the straw covered ground.  He was an older man, burly and squat. “She thinks she’s invincible, but there’s danger lurking.  If she don’t take care of herself, then where will we be?” He spat again. “Doomed.” 

 

Chanson worried more about the princess than the kingdom, but the old man had a point.

 

The young man heaved a bale of hale into a manger before replying.  “Well, Master Link catches up with her one way or another. He’s never lost her yet!”  He laughed. “At least not for too long!”

 

“Hmph,” snorted the farrier, “maybe so, but what I wouldn’t give that her mother were still alive.”  He returned to laying out his tools, preparing to shoe the mare who was now affectionately nibbling the stable boy’s hair.  “The Queen had the power. You felt safe when she was near.”

 

The poet felt his ears grow hot.  The old man had a lot of nerve casting aspersions on his princess.

 

“I’m sure the princess wishes her mother were still alive, as well.” Chanson said coldly.  How dare this stable lout doubt the princess. She worked so hard. Her power would come. It must.

 

The farrier looked sideways at Chanson.  “No need to get your feathers ruffled there, singer.”  He bent to examine the mare’s foreleg and hoof. “I meant no disrespect.  The good Queen herself did not find her power for some years...let’s see,” he sat up and looked toward the rafters of the barn in thought. “Yep, she first heard the goddess about the time the young princess was born.  That was a lovely sight, that golden queen with the babe in her arms, light shining all around ‘em. Not all the time, you see, “ he bent over the hoof again. “Just on special occasions, you know? Like in the temple.”  

 

This was new information.  He had never heard that the Queen did not always have her powers.  He had always assumed the princesses of Hyrule were born with their powers manifest.  He stepped closer to the old man, eager to find out more.

 

“Tell me,” Chanson asked, eager with anticipation.  He had left his notebook behind, fool that he was. But who would have thought the stable would be a good place to find poetic inspiration?

 

“Careful, singer,” the farrier cautioned.  “The mare is gentle, but she can kick as hard any any stallion here.  Step back if you don’t want your head cracked.” Chanson shuffled away, nervously eyeing the mare’s placid rump.

 

The old man set down his file and laid a steadying hand on the mare’s flank.  

 

“Look here, I’ve got my work to do, as I’m sure you do,” the farrier gave Chanson a pointed look as if to say that he doubted what work the slim, young Sheikah could possibly do.  “But I’ll tell you one more thing.” Chanson waited, a careful distance from the man and the horse.

 

“The Queen found her powers when she was older than our princess is now.”  The old man sighed, looking at the young stablehand who was now raking straw and whistling one of Chanson’s own ballads  through his teeth. The poet saw something of a resemblance -- his grandson, perhaps. “The princess needs to figure it out soon because I don’t think she’s got the time her mother did. It ain’t fair to her, but it is what it is.”

 

He looked sadly at Chanson.  “The Calamity is coming. I don’t care what those scientists think, with their mechanical beasts and such, it’s them two, the princess and Link that we need.”  

 

He picked up his file again.

 

“It’s about time they figured out that they need each other,” he took up the mare’s hoof and set to his task, “for all of our sakes.”

 

“Go along now, singer,” he gestured toward the castle.  “I’m sure there’s a fine lady waiting for you to toot a fine song on your flute.”

 

Chanson considered telling the old man that the lyre was more his instrument, but figured it probably did not matter.  He nodded his thanks and waved goodbye to the young man who was now humming and “tra-la-la-ing” to himself as he raked.

 

The poet had much to consider as he made the trek back to the castle.


	5. Chapter 5

 

When she was truly happy, Princess Zelda had  smile like the sun, and anyone on the receiving end of this smile could not help but turn toward her, like the flowers in Hyrule field, basking in her light.  It was during these moments of joy that it was easy to believe she was the avatar of Hylia, such radiance did surround her. 

 

Since returning from her impromptu visit to Gerudo Town, the princess was far more generous with such smiles.  She had smiled politely before, but this was something different. Before, her smiles did not reach her lovely, green eyes.  Now she exuded a radiance that spoke of a measure of contentment she had not previously possessed. Chief Urbosa was a dear friend of the princess, so Chanson assumed that Princess Zelda’s visit with the Gerudo champion lightened her spirits.  Or perhaps it was her work on Vah Naboris, which was far more powerful than the Sheikah scientists who helped restore the beast had ever hoped. Not even King Rhoam’s anger with his daughter for leaving behind her duties and her appointed knight dampened her mood.  

 

How angry King Rhoam had been!  When he called the princess and her appointed knight into his study a week after her return, Chanson and the other castle denizens could hear his raised voice from the library.  Chanson kept one ear attuned to the study while he shuffled through reams of parchment. He had some sacred poems he wanted to set to music, but he was far more interested in making out what the king was saying to his daughter than he was in making music at the moment.

 

“Of all the thoughtless, CARELESS…” he heard the king rumble. 

 

Chanson cocked his head to one side.  Something had happened on the princess’s trip, but no one knew exactly what.  That is, no one except the princess herself. And Link. A message had arrived from the Gerudo Chief, Urbosa, a few days after the princess and Link returned to the castle.  Whatever the letter had contained sent the King into a fury. Servants who never feared the wrath of their stern, yet kind, monarch, were speaking in whispers and scurrying in and out of his presence as quickly as they were able.   _ It’s that foolish girl, _ they whispered.   _ Why won’t she just do as she’s told? _

 

“You have a SACRED DUTY, Zelda.  If you were to be hurt or Hylia forbid, KILLED, it’s the death of us all!”  The king bellowed. 

 

Chanson’s heart leapt within his breast.  Had the princess been injured? She appeared in good health.  She had cut through the library before going to her father’s chambers and greeted Chanson warmly.  Her eyes were bright, and no injury marred her form that he could see. Still, she must have been in some danger, else why the king’s anger?

 

“THINK, Zelda!  The fate of Hyrule….If you had been---if we had lost you..”  Chanson’s ears strained to hear each word. The King must be pacing, moving away from the door.  The poet scooted his chair down, closer to the King’s study. The only other person remaining in the library, a bent and wizened old tutor, did not look up from his tome.

 

“Father, if you would please listen!” The princess’s pleading interrupted her father’s rant. “I came to no harm at all.  Link was there. He -- he saved me. With him near me, what harm can --”

 

“And thank Hylia for Link, young lady!”  King Rhoam’s fury reignited. “Running away….petulant child…”  The king was muttering again.

 

“Father, please! If you would only, listen.  Link, tell him.” Zelda’s voice rang out in exasperation.

 

“By all means, Sir Knight.  I would like to hear from  _ someone  _ sensible!” King Rhoam replied.

 

Chanson heard the low murmur of Link speaking to the king, but it was impossible to make out much.   _ The princess.  Brave. Her research.   Vital _ .   _ Even Urbosa _ ...Chanson could not hear any more.  He tilted his chair, oh so casually, trying to get just a little closer without giving the appearance of eavesdropping.

 

“I know, my boy,” King Rhoam conceded, much calmer in his response to the appointed knight.  Link’s words had appeased the king. Whatever he said. Maybe he told him about what he had for breakfast.  As far as Chanson could tell, food and swords were about the extent of Link’s interests. Maybe horses.

 

“But know this, Zelda,” the monarch’s voice echoed out again, “You are to not set foot out of this castle, NAY, out of your CHAMBERS, without Link by your side.”

 

Chanson heard Zelda murmur an assent.  

 

“Now, go.  Your devotions have suffered these last few days and I will not have it.  If you have been as brave as your knight tells me, then perhaps it is time for a visit to the Spring of Courage.  Make your offerings to the goddess and pray for the power to save our kingdom.”

 

Chanson quickly righted his chair and made himself busy when he heard the door to the study creak open.  He slid a sideways glance toward the study and was rewarded with the sight of the fair Zelda, her cheeks red, one hand clenched.  She was beautiful.

 

“Well,” he heard her say to Link who had come up beside her.  “That went better than expected.” 

 

Link stared at her, silent as always, his blue eyes widening.  She could not be serious? That was the worst rant Chanson had ever heard from the king -- or partially heard.  The audible parts were bad enough.

 

The princess quirked one corner of her mouth, smirking at her appointed knight.  Chanson contemplated the delightful change such a roguish grin had on her appearance, more than a little amazed at her optimism after receiving such a sound lecture from her father.  Her brush with death in the desert, if in fact that was what occurred, changed the princess’s outlook considerably.

 

The poet was shaken out of his musing by a strange sound, something between a snort and a sigh.  His eyes darted to the young knight and saw him shaking his head, his shoulders shaking. Link was chuckling.  

 

Link.  That bastion of silence and stoicism was  _ laughing.  _  Just a little.  Very quietly. But it was a laugh all the same, a tiny gleam in his eye.

 

Zelda giggled in response, but hearing the slide of a chair in the King’s study behind her, she quickly brought her hands to her mouth, stifling the sound.  Link’s mirth disappeared immediately as he straightened up and took his place behind Zelda, but the warmth in his eyes remained, his gaze lingering on the princess’s hair, her quaking shoulders from her barely suppressed giggles.

 

“Come along, Sir Knight,” Zelda’s commanded in grandly false officious tone.  “I must perform my ritual ablutions and then pray at the altar in the courtyard to prepare my spirit for the Spring of Courage.  Do stay close lest a stray ant bite my ankle whilst I kneel and make my supplications.”

 

Link shook his head, the tiniest of smiles lifting his lips.

 

“Yes, your majesty,” he replied and followed his princess down the hall. 

 

Chanson remained in the library for a good long while after that, pondering what all these smiles could mean.

 

  
  


* * *

 

 

Chanson waited impatiently near the gates of the castle.  His lady had been gone for far too long. Her journey to pray at the Spring of Courage took at least seven days round trip.  If the weather was favorable, it took at least two days to travel to the divine spring. The princess would spend most of next day at the spring purifying and preparing herself to pray throughout the next day and well into the night.  After a brief rest from her devotions, she would return to the castle -- at least another two days of travel if the weather held. When she returned, she would be cold and exhausted and likely to lock herself away in her chambers for at least another day or two.

 

It was agony to not even catch a glimpse of her for so long, so Chanson had posted himself by the gate so that he could at least see his lady when she returned.  If he were bold enough, he may press her hand and tell her how he admired her devotion. Or would that be too forward? At any rate, he had time to plan. It was only late afternoon, and the princess would not be returning until after dusk if her previous journeys were any indication.  Leaning over the stone wall, Chanson piped a romantic note on his flute and imagined sunlight in golden hair and settled in for a long wait.

 

So, the poet was more than a little surprised when only a quarter of an hour later, if that, the princess herself burst through the gates, not quite running, her longs skirts would not allow for it, but definitely in a hurry.  Her appointed knight, Link, was right behind her, trotting so close on her heels he was practically stepping on her hem. Most inappropriate! How dare the upstart walk so close to the lady.

 

Chanson had hoped to cross her path, perhaps stop to exchange a pleasant word, but she hurried so quickly through the courtyard, he barely caught a glimpse.  His loving gaze was further hindered because she was draped in an over-large blue cloak. It must have belonged to the appointed knight. Chanson had seen Link wear it before, but why had the princess draped her regal form in a low-born’s rags?  His lady wearing the clothes of another? What had happened to the Princess Zelda?

 

Chanson scrambled down from his perch as quickly as possible, but the knight and the princess disappeared into the castle before he could make chase.  He was further hindered when two ladies in waiting stopped him and goggled at him, telling him they hoped to hear him perform soon. Chanson was as polite as he could be, courtly etiquette demanded no less, but damn the foolish hens, did they not know he was a lover on a mission?  

 

He extricated himself as quickly as he could without giving offense, promising each lady a verse the next time King Rhoam called court and crept quietly to the corridor leading to Princess Zelda’s rooms.  He heard footsteps and voices, and clutching his flute to his chest, slunk into the nearest darkened corner. A pair of young maids were hurrying by, their hands full and looks of irritation on their faces.

  
  


“Foolish girl has been of age for years,” snapped the older chambermaid to her companion.  “So knowledgeable about everything under the sun except what really matters. She can tell you exactly when some stinking flower will sprout or produce fruit to the very hour, but she doesn’t have the sense to look at the moon and figure out that  _ maybe _ she ought to put something on under her fine white priestess garb, for Hylia’s sake.”  She clucked her tongue, swinging two large pails in her hands. 

 

“It’s not like she doesn’t have rags aplenty.  I stock them for her myself. She probably uses them to polish her  _ ancient artifacts, _ ” the maid’s mouth twisted around the term and she raised her voice in a poor imitation of the princess’s own golden tones.

 

“Guess who has the fun of trying to remove that stain without ruining the gown,” mourned the bright-eyed maid carrying a basket of crumpled  white silk and linen.

 

“At least she was standing in cold water most of the time.  Maybe the stain won’t set too badly,” the older girl consoled the laundress.  “I’m off to run her bath. Once you’ve set those to soaking, bring up an elixir for pain.”

 

Pain?  Had his lady been injured?  Chanson gasped at the thought.  What use was the damned appointed knight if he could not keep the princess safe?

 

“Oh, I won’t need to do that.  Master Link,” here the younger girl giggled, “told me he’d already brewed one for her while they were at the spring.  She won’t need another til morning.”

 

“Well, I like that!” the older girl paused to toss her head.  “Champion chosen by the goddess herself to save us all from doom, and he’s playing nursemaid.  It wouldn’t be so bad, I suppose, if she had actually proved herself useful, but as it is, his time is better spent with his sword than with coddling her.”

 

“I think it’s sweet,” the younger girl smiled, a dreamy look on her face as she clutched her basket to her breast.  “He’s so stiff and stern, but Master Link is just the kindest with--”

 

“Yes, yes, we all know what you think of Mr. Blue-eyes,” interrupted her companion.   “Keep your eyes on your laundry, girl, and away from your betters. It does no good to distract those with their calling.  I’d rather be saved from Calamity than see you get a kiss off a good looking knight, thank you very much. Hylia knows we can’t depend on her majesty.”

 

“Oh, he looks right through me,” sighed the girl lugging her laundry down the hall, “Too busy staring at the princess’s back to have time to look at anyone else.  What a view he got today though! How mortifying.” She shook her head.

 

“Well, such a swordsman as he is will have seen blood enough, and that’s a fact, though I doubt he’s seen any got in quite that fashion!”  The young women laughed together as they disappeared down the long hall, hurrying to their tasks.

 

Chanson stood still and silent, reflecting upon what he had just overheard until realization struck.

 

He felt his cheeks burn crimson and he fought the desire to cringe and run.  It was not something to be ashamed of, he supposed. It was to be expected after all.  Princess Zelda was the goddess incarnate but mortal all the same. Such an uncomfortable contradiction, and how humiliating for her.  Righteous anger replaced the burn of shame when he thought of the flip manner of the maids. Did they not know they were speaking a daughter of Hylia, herself?  And even if not, where was the kindness for a fellow woman shamed before her very guard?

 

Chanson was just about to step out of his corner -- to run away and soothe his embarrassed soul with some fine wine and a hour or so of composing -- when another set of footsteps sent him back into his alcove.

 

The knight.  Link. What was he doing up here?  Surely he had done enough already, and there was no reason for him to be here when the princess had her maids to attend her.  Even the appointed knight was allowed time to himself when the princess was within the protected walls of the castle.

 

Link walked right past Chanson, who shrank further back against the wall.  Though he may have given his life over to music, he was of the Sheikah tribe afterall.  The Shadow People they were called, and he, like any good Sheikah, had been trained in the art of silence and stealth.  He slowed his breathing and gave himself over to becoming one with the shadow. Chanson was not entirely sure he was doing it right, but he did his best.  At any rate, Link gave no indication that he had seen the poet. He was hurrying, really doing a ridiculous little half jog down the hall, and did not look to the left or the right.  His royal blue tunic was rumpled and his pants creased. He clearly had not changed since they had returned, and Chanson caught a whiff of horse as Link strode past his hiding place. He lifted a scented handkerchief to his nose and watched as Link knocked firmly on Princess Zelda’s chamber door. There was no response from the other side.   

 

The knight waited.

 

“Princess?” Link finally called out.  It was odd to hear his voice since he rarely spoke unless replying to a question or a command.  Chanson had once wondered if the knight had a lisp or some other impediment that made speech difficult, but no, Link could speak just fine.  He simply chose not to do so most of the time, but something had compelled him to beseech the princess to open her door.

 

The knight knocked once, twice.  No answer.

 

“Zelda?” the knight boldly called to the princess by name, a little louder.  He knocked one more time and waited. After a long moment, the door opened slowly and the pallid face of the princess appeared, her golden hair unbound and tumbled about her shoulders.  Chanson could not help the gasp that left his mouth. His anger over the knight being forward enough to call his lady by her chosen name quite left him when he saw the princess so different from her usual poised self.  She had changed out of her travelling clothes and wrapped herself in a simple pink silk robe. Her bare toes peeked out from under the hem. She looked like a rose in full bloom, under the warming sun of dawn, dewy petals opening to the warmth…Chanson shook himself from his reverie when she spoke.

 

“I’m fine, Link,” she answered the knight’s unspoken question.  She sounded tired, not fine at all really. Even though she was lovely in her pink silk, her face was pale and there were bluish shadows under her eyes.  Link narrowed his own eyes, and turned down the corners of his mouth. He did not believe her either.

 

She heaved a sigh.  “Or I will be. Thank you for your help before.  I really am feeling much better, and I’m...well, I’m sorry for - ”  Chanson did not get to hear what she was sorry for because Link held up a gloved hand to stop her from continuing.

 

“Don’t…” the knight interrupted her.   He shook his head slowly, telling her without words that he did not want to hear an apology from her.  She closed her mouth, apparently not concerned with his rudeness and patiently waited for him to explain himself.  He paused, looking down at his boots and seeming to consider his words.

 

“Don’t run away again, okay?” he said, looking up at her again with an earnest expression.  The knight’s worry was etched in his face. Even Chanson could tell from his darkened corner, and Link was usually most difficult to read.

 

Zelda considered her knight a moment before she gave a wry smile.  “Did you think I was planning another trip to Gerudo town?” She ran her fingers through her loose hair and gave a heavy sigh.  How Chanson envied that hand! Her golden locks shone in the candlelit hall. He wondered if they would feel as smooth as the silk of her gown.  

 

Link did not reply, but one corner of his mouth lifted into a smirk and he shrugged.  So rude! But again, Princess Zelda did not react at all to this improper attitude, other than to reach out and pat Link’s shoulder.

 

“I appreciate your concern,  but don’t worry about me running off.  I have no doubt you would find me very quickly in my present state, so there really is no point in me even trying to flee.”  She smiled again, a little brighter, and her pale cheeks had more color now. Link still eyed her suspiciously, but he smiled at her attempt at humor.

 

“Also, I’m sure you wish to change and find a hot meal,” the princess told the young knight, glancing at his dusty travel clothes.  Link gave her another doubtful look. “I’m not trying to get rid of you and I’m not going anywhere,” she reiterated, when he did not move.  Chanson was aghast at Link’s impertinence, but the princess, pale and tired as she was, appeared to have nothing but patience with this uncooperative knight.

 

Link finally nodded at her, but before turning to leave, he reached into a pocket and pulled out a crumpled handful of dusty looking weeds.  Chanson wrinkled his nose when Link stretched out that wad of dustbin scraps to his most revered lady.

 

The princess, however,  did not hesitate and reached out for the offering,  allowing Link to press that dubious clump of weeds into her hand.  Chanson felt his ears burn with jealous rage when he saw Link’s dirty fingers brush Princess Zelda’s soft palm as she took the offering.  She gently fingered the dry pinkish petals, stirring to get a better look. “What is -- oh! It’s warm safflina. Good for elixirs and --”

 

“And warming poultices,” Link finished her sentence.  Zelda’s eyes were bright as they often were when science and horticulture were being discussed.  “I use it sometimes if I have a muscle strain from training or battle,” Link explained. “It helps,” he finished with a small smile.  Chanson stifled a groan at this base statement. To discuss one’s sore muscles with the princess! To suggest that the heir of the goddess might have aches and pains that would need such a thing! Even if it were true, the indignity of it all.  

 

Again, Chanson was surprised to the tip of his fine leather boots when rather than tell Link off for such an invasive suggestion, the princess smiled at Link again, such a sweetness in her expression, her green eyes luminous despite the shadows beneath them.

 

“Thank you,” she said, her voice warm with appreciation for the handful of herbs.  Link held her gaze for a second longer than Chanson felt was strictly necessary before nodding at her at her again.

 

“Good night, Link,” the princess said, the smile lingering on her lips.

 

“Good night, Princess,” the taciturn knight responded.  Giving him one last fond glance, the princess closed the door quietly, and the knight made to leave.   Before he took more than a step or two from the princess’s door, Link turned and looked directly at the poet in the corner.

 

“Good night, Chanson,” Link said in a clear commanding voice.  Well, that was unexpected. Had Link trained with the Sheikah? He must have to have seen through the poet’s stealth.  What was Chanson to do? What could he do? The knight was clearly not intending to move a muscle before the poet did. He was staring quite aggressively for someone with such a limited range of emotion, so Chanson sheepishly emerged from his corner, casting a scathing glance at the young knight.  Link waited until the poet was a few paces ahead, and then he followed. Chanson hurried with as much dignity as possible down the hallway, feeling Link’s eyes burn a hole in the back of his neck. It really was quite unnecessary for the knight to match him pace for pace until they were out of the princess’s wing.  He was not intending to linger! He was merely concerned for his lady, as Link was himself! Nonetheless, Chanson was very relieved when they passed the dining hall, and Link made an exit to find his dinner. 


	6. Chapter 6

Upon further consideration, Chanson could not fault Link for clearing the princess’s wing of any men lurking in the shadows.  He admitted this to himself with some embarrassment when he returned to his own bedroom to alternately cringe and fume. What had love made of him?  A silly fool, skulking about, longing for his lady. He must be more direct with the princess, to make his plight known, but time alone with her was so very rare.  

 

He saw her in the lab, but only when he was summoned by Robbie or Purah -- which had not been happening as often as he wanted. There were only so many ancient documents to translate and the research into the ancient technology, while not complete, rarely needed his translations anymore.  Robbie’s team had nearly mastered controlling the powerful guardians, and Purah’s work with the Sheikah Slate had uncovered capabilities beyond their wildest imaginings.

 

Chanson saw the princess in court, when she was there, but all too often lately, she was not.  Official royal duties took her to the far off kingdoms: Gerudo Town, the Zora Domain, Rito Village and within the next few days, Goron City.  The princess could be gone for weeks on these official visits. The travel alone took several days, and the princess took detours, to pray at springs, to practice a ritual at a far-flung altar or, as her father suspected, to do unapproved field research.  

 

Not that the King could prove absolutely this was why the official visits sometimes took longer than they should.  There were vicious monsters about, and Link would sometimes change their route to skirt a territory claimed by a lynel or to avoid a new bokoblin encampment.  The weather could be fickle, especially in the Faron region, so Princess Zelda’s return to Hyrule Castle was often delayed by a day or two...or three. Sometimes after a delayed return, the princess would appear in the Royal Tech Lab with a new guardian part or ancient core to inspect.  Other times, she could be found consulting with the head gardener, pressing a packet of seeds or a wilted clipping into the old woman’s hand. After these delayed returns, the King would call Link into his chambers for a report. Whatever the knight told the king never failed to corroborate Princess Zelda’s tales of lightning storms or fierce Moblins, and King Rhoam would be mollified.  For a while, at least. Link was nothing if not loyal to his princess.

 

Link, that fortunate knave.  While Chanson pined for a mere glimpse of Princess Zelda and her smile like sunshine, Link was her constant companion.  More than that, he spent hours, days even, alone with the princess. Just the two of them riding across the kingdom on horseback, hiding in caves during storms, exploring ancient ruins, a young man and a beautiful, young woman alone in the wild.  For Chanson, it would have been a fantasy come true, to be alone with his lady love in such a manner. What opportunities for romance!

 

Luckily, Link appeared to have no more finer sentiment than a Hyrule bass.  Maybe that’s why Lady Mipha loved him so. As stoic and withdrawn as he was, Link and the princess’s working relationship had improved greatly.  Chanson witnessed friendly conversation between them in court and the lab. Link maintained his respectful mien with his princess, but Princess Zelda’s demeanor with her knight was decidedly more amicable.

 

Chanson had to wonder what Link’s feelings were for the princess.  It was difficult to say. Link remained very closed off to almost everyone.  He communicated with the princess and King Rhoam, of course, and he was particularly friendly with the Goron Champion, Daruk.  Robbie, Purah and Impa were all fond of the boy. However, what Link thought about, dreamed about, was anyone’s guess.

 

And yet...How could he help but admire the princess, being so honored to spend almost every waking moment in her divine presence?  Walking behind her everyday, eyes upon the golden fall of silken hair, the proud set of her shoulders, the round curve of...well, all of her ample charms on display to his ever staring eyes.  Oh, what Chanson would give to worship her as a goddess, to love her as a woman. What a painful contradiction it was to be in love.

  
  


* * *

  
  


The next few weeks passed slowly for Chanson.  The princess kept to her chambers and her personal study for more than a week after her return from the Spring of Courage.  Whether she still felt ill or whether she hid from shame, no one knew. 

 

“Ah, she’s just found an excuse to get some time to work in her study, is all,” Purah declared with her usual bluntness when Chanson wondered aloud in the Royal Tech Lab if Princess Zelda was well.  “It’s good for her to have time for her own research.” Her glasses slipped down her nose when she bent to examine a tiny metallic chip she was attempting to insert into the Sheikah slate. She pushed them up with one finger and looked up at Chanson.

 

“Zelda wanted the slate back today after I finish these modifications.  She’s leaving for Goron City tomorrow. Why don’t you take it to her?” Chanson could not help the smile that spread across his face.  Dear, wonderful Purah. What a kind soul! 

 

“It’ll save me time and give you a chance to check on her if you’re worried.”   She grabbed a tiny screwdriver and glanced up at him again, “And you shouldn’t be.  Link’s with her. He’ll make sure she’s okay.”

 

And with that statement, all the gratitude and kindness he was feeling toward Purah departed.  She was positively brutal to remind him of that fact. Link. Alone with Zelda for the better part of a fortnight. It wasn’t fair. 

 

And so, Chanson found himself in the corridor outside the princess’s chambers once more, but this time with a true purpose.  No one could accuse him of skulking now. 

 

He knocked briskly, and hoped his thumping pulse would not be too visible in his neck. His palms were sweaty, and he was afraid he was smudging the slate.  He hoped the princess would not be angry.

 

The door opened, but instead of the princess, her chambermaid stood there with a dusting cloth in hand.  She was a pretty girl, and she gave the poet a most charming smile when she saw that it was Chanson at the door.  Where was Princess Zelda? Chanson tried not to let his disappointment show, and so he spoke kindly to the girl.

 

“The princess?  She’s gone down to the field,” the chambermaid answered him.  “You can leave that for her if you want,” she gestured toward the Sheikah slate with her cloth.  “I’ll leave it on her desk.”

 

Chanson’s heart dropped to the pit of his stomach.  What a wasted opportunity! He had the perfect excuse to meet Princess Zelda alone in her chambers, and she would be delighted to see the slate again.  He could ask her questions about the updates, tell her what he had seen in the lab that day. He was not going to just leave it behind and miss his chance to see her smile.

 

“No, I’m afraid it’s far too precious an item for me to give it to anyone except Princess Zelda,” he told the maid, giving her an apologetic look.  “Where did you say she was? The field? Hyrule Field?”

 

“Oh, yes, I understand,” the chambermaid glanced at him from under her eyelashes, and twisted her dusting cloth in her hands.  “If -- If you want, you are welcome to wait for her in the sitting area.” She pointed toward the small sofa and table. “I’ll be here at my duties.”  She smiled again, a dimple appearing in her left cheek. “It would be no trouble at all. And I -- I like music. Maybe you could play something?”

 

For half a moment, Chanson was tempted.  He would be able to see the princess without having to traipse outdoors.  However, the chambermaid’s look was growing ever bolder with each passing moment.  She was very sweet and pretty, and Chanson worried about his resolve if he stayed. Oh, his heart belonged to the princess, but it had been a long while since he had kissed a pair of eager lips.  He was only flesh and blood, after all.

 

The girl stepped closer, her face turned up to him.  Chanson studied her for a moment, the soft curls that fell on her forehead, the twinkle in her blue eyes. 

 

He steeled himself and bolstered his resolve.  No. What was a moment’s pleasure to a love that transcended such fleshy pursuits?  It was all fine and good in its place, but without a true soul connection, it was ultimately meaningless.  

 

“Thank you, my dear,”  he spoke gently, “but if our princess is in the field, she is doing research.  She must have the slate at once.” He excused himself, feeling a moment’s pang when he saw how the girl’s face dropped.  

 

He enjoyed how the young ladies of the castle flirted with him and swooned at his romantic poetry, but he tried not to hurt them.  He knew who held his heart, and only a cad would dally with one maid while loving another. 

 

An hour later, sweaty and panting, Chanson was regretting his decision.  Hyrule Field was much bigger than he had remembered, and the afternoon sun was high overhead.  The rich velvet doublet he had donned before heading for the princess’s chambers was perfect for pitching woo, and absolutely miserable for trekking across the wilderness.  There was a stone in his boot, and the feather in his hat drooped. 

 

He should have asked precisely where in Hyrule Field Princess Zelda had gone, though he was certain the maid did not know.  Princess Zelda kept her whereabouts vague if possible. It gave her more room to maneuver. His princess was a clever young woman and certainly knew her own mind about things.  He admired her for this, even as it made his quest all the more difficult.

 

Eventually, Chanson stopped for a rest under a shady oak tree. While the sweat poured down his back, Chanson tried to cheer himself with the old lover’s adage:   _ The easy attainment of love makes it of little value; difficulty of attainment makes it prized. _  Though he suffered, his prize would be all the sweeter.  Leaning against the massive trunk, he looked upwards at the spreading branches.  It would be an an easy climb and the perfect place to look out over the entirety of Hyrule Field.

 

Without further ado, Chanson slipped the Sheikah Slate into his doublet, and climbed up the tree.  Once he found a firm seat on a high branch, he looked out and realized he had been much closer to the princess than he had thought.  Just a little way away, near a scattering of boulders, the princess and Link were on their hands and knees, apparently picking herbs and mushrooms.

 

Princess Zelda’s musical voice rose on the breeze, and Chanson could hear fragments of her conversation with Link

 

She held up a greenish mushroom.  “Rather rare, but surely you’ve had them?”

 

Link murmured a reply that was lost in the breeze.  

 

“Yes, they are difficult to grow in the castle....” Chanson strained his ears, trying to hear.  

 

It was ridiculous really that he did not just climb down and take the slate to her.  However, there was something deeply satisfying in watching her in an unguarded moment from afar.  The princess looked happy. Happier than he had ever seen her in the castle or even the lab. On her knees, her fingers in the dirt and her hair blowing the breeze, she was smiling brightly at Link, talking rapidly about herbs and mushrooms and elixirs.

 

“Cooking them releases their magical properties, of course,” she was saying, scooting very close to Link to hold the mushroom under his nose.  She was showing him something about the coloration and the gills of the delectable fungi. The knight leaned down to sniff the mushroom in the princess’s palm.  Chanson rolled his eyes. How uncouth! Then he saw Princess Zelda lift the mushroom to her own nose to inhale. Well, a scientist did need to use all of their senses in their investigations.  

 

“Yes, this one is potent.  It would definitely increase the stamina of anyone who ingests it.”  She brought the mushroom to Link’s mouth, offering it to him. 

 

The knight hesitated a moment before taking a small bite of the Stamella shroom she held out to him.  A peculiar tingle crawled over Chanson’s scalp at this. It was a rather intimate gesture to feed the knight by hand.

 

“Well,” Zelda laughed.  “That’s all you are going to eat?”  She looked down and up at him from under golden lashes.  “I need my appointed knight to have all the stamina he possibly can.”  She brought the mushroom to his lips again.

  
  


Chanson brought out the Sheikah Slate.  Purah had shown him a new feature she unlocked for the princess, the ability to zoom in and see things from afar.  He knew he was being terribly presumptuous to use Princess Zelda’s personal slate, but for goodness sake, what was that look she was giving Link?  It looked like...it looked very much like she was  _ flirting _ .

 

Chanson focused the slate on the princess and her knight.  Princess Zelda still teased Link with the Stamella shroom, a coy smile playing about her lips.  Chanson had seen such a look just over an hour earlier, when the young maid invited him to stay awhile and play for her.  

 

“Well?”  Zelda asked her knight, “We do have a long journey to Goron City tomorrow.  I cannot have you lagging behind.”

 

Link gave the princess an inscrutable look, but he was not blank. No indeed, not now.  Chanson was reminded of a wolf eyeing up a rabbit when Link bent to take another bite, his eyes locked on the princess, but his teeth closed on empty air.  She had pulled the mushroom back at the very last minute and left him snapping at the air.

 

Zelda giggled at Link’s look of surprise, but the giggle turned into a squeal when Link grabbed her hand that held the Stamella and ate the entire thing in one bite, leaving just the stem between her fingers.  

 

“Oh!”  She burst out laughing.  “You certainly are quick enough!  No need for the hasty elixir I was planning to brew for you!” She tossed the stem at him with a grin, but quickly looked down and sideways into the basket that held their herbs and mushrooms.  A blush stained her cheeks and she let her hair fall to hide her face. Link tilted his head to the side, trying to catch her eye. Chanson saw him pick up the stem she had thrown and twirl it between his fingers.  

 

“Well!”  She rose to her knees and stood up, briskly dusting off the seat of her pants.  “I think we have enough here for now. I’ll brew up a few precautionary elixirs before we depart, but we’ll need to buy more fireproof elixirs at Foothill stable.”  She was speaking quickly, twisting the basket handle in her hands. 

 

Link scrambled quickly to his feet to follow, his head bowed as he acknowledged her commands.  

 

“The elixirs will work well enough for me, but I think we may also need to buy you some Goron gear,” she spoke over her shoulder.  “You don’t want to set your trousers on fire again.” There was that teasing tone again.

 

Link froze in his tracks, watching the princess as she walked confidently toward the castle.  

 

“Daruk told you about that?” came his incredulous reply, loud enough for Chanson to hear him clearly for the first time.  

 

The princess’s voice was growing fainter, but he could her her delighted chortle. “Oh, yes...and more!”

 

Link’s shoulders slumped, just a fraction, as he considered what else Daruk may have told her.  He did not wait long as the princess was making rapid headway toward the castle. He adjusted the sword on his back and jogged after her.

 

Chanson sat frozen in his perch.  He no longer felt hot. No, indeed.  A cold sweat came over him, and his head swam.  He tucked the Sheikah Slate away with numb fingers and slowly made his way down from the tree. The scene he just witnessed flashed before his eyes.

 

Princess Zelda making eyes at Link.  Princess Zelda teasing Link. Princess Zelda’s delicate fingers grazing Link’s lips when he ate the mushroom from her hand.  Link’s strong grip in the princess’s wrist. Princess Zelda blushing under Link’s gaze.

 

The goddess reborn she may be, but Princess Zelda was a young woman.  Young women flirted with handsome young men. It was just the way of things, especially in the castle.  Ladies passed the time teasing the young lords and knights. The lords and knights played along. It rarely meant anything serious.  

 

That chambermaid played the coquette with him today, but it was not out of sincere emotion.  She did not love Chanson. He was a handsome, talented young man -- he had no false modesty -- but nothing could come of a relationship between him and a chambermaid.  It was a bit of fun, that’s all. 

 

Surely, the same thing was happening here.  Princess Zelda was of royal blood, a descendant of the goddess.  Link was a handsome and talented young knight. However, the princess could not love one so lowborn.  A bit of a tease, a bit of a laugh was all it was. 

 

Chanson was sure of it.  


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Road trip!

While the princess and her appointed knight were away on official business in Goron City, Chanson had time to reflect upon the scene he had witnessed between Princess Zelda and Link.  He oscillated between the depths of despair when he remembered the princess’s flushed cheeks and coy glances at her knight, and the highest of hopes when his pragmatic side reminded him that Link reacted very little to the princess.  At least, he did not react as Chanson would have if the princess had flirted with  _ him _ like that.  

 

Chanson would not have gnawed a dirty mushroom out of her hand, like a starving cur.  He would have clasped Princess Zelda’s hand to his heart or pressed a tender kiss to her palm. So, perhaps the princess did tease Link, but that’s what girls did, at least in his experience.  Moreover, given the opportunity, Link did not respond as a lover should. This gave Chanson hope. 

 

And so, on the day appointed for the princess’s return to Hyrule Castle, Chanson awoke early.  His plans for the day were to take a long bath, dress himself in his finest clothes, and figure out a way to greet Princess Zelda on her return from Goron City.

 

Hylia smiled upon him, for shortly after midday, a page boy brought him a message to appear before King Rhoam in the Sanctum as soon as possible.  Chanson made haste, and found the King in audience with his daughter, Link and Impa. 

 

Princess Zelda wore her blue gown, but she still wore her hair in braids, the style she favored while traveling.  She must have quickly changed to meet with her father, but she had not been home for very long. Link knelt behind her, his head slightly bowed.  

 

“Surely these increased monster attacks are portents of the Calamity’s return,” King Rhoam rumbled, stroking his beard. “And you say you saw  _ two _ lynels?  This bodes ill for our kingdom.” 

 

Chanson noted the worry on Impa’s face.  What was this about monsters? He could not help but grow angry with the king who allowed his precious daughter to wander the whole of Hyrule with only Link by her side.  Chosen hero he may be, but he was only one man. Princess Zelda’s safety should be foremost. Where was safer than Hyrule Castle? She had the library and the labs. And him.  If only she knew what she could have in him...Chanson’s thoughts were cut off by the princess’s reply to her father.

  
“Yes, Father, that’s what I--”  Zelda began to speak, but the king raised his hand to silence her.  She tightened her lips and looked down at her feet. 

 

“I know, Zelda,” King Rhoam continued more gently, “but I do not see any reason for you to travel to Zora’s Domain immediately.  Of all the champions, Lady Mipha especially has no need of your assistance.” 

 

Zelda gave a sharp inhalation at this and clasped her hands before her, hard.  Chanson saw her knuckles turn white. Link shifted his weight from his front to his back leg, as if he were about the rise, but he remained kneeling.

 

“Lady Mipha has proven her worth as Champion of Hyrule with a mastery over both her Divine Beast and her own healing powers,” King Rhoam continued.  “She is a credit to her father and her kingdom.” 

 

“Unlike me, you mean!” Princess Zelda retorted, her lips twisted into a bitter smile.  Link kept his head down, bowed respectfully, but Chanson saw his eyes flick toward the princess.  Impa looked down, embarrassed for the girl.

 

“Mind your tone, Zelda,” King Rhoam chastised his daughter.  “You will do as you’re told and remain here in Hyrule Castle to focus on your prayers and devotions.  Perhaps if you showed as much dedication to your kingdom as Lady Mipha does to hers, your powers would also manifest.”  

 

Zelda sucked in a noisy breath, her eyes glistening.  Her control was waning, but she was determined to be heard out.  “What about Link, then?” she gestured to the knight kneeling next to her.  “Stand up! Show him, Link!” she commanded, but though he raised his head to look her in the eye, he remained kneeling until King Rhoam spoke.

 

“Arise, Sir Knight,” King Rhoam boomed.  “Your wounds were honorably received, defending the daughter of Hyrule, and you shall receive the respect and care you deserve.”

 

Link rose up and once standing, Chanson could see a bloody bandage wound tight around his muscular forearm.  There was a bruise on his chin and a gash on his forehead that had already scabbed over. 

 

“Lady Mipha is a friend of yours, no?” The king smiled at Link.  Zelda’s eyes moved from her father to Link, waiting for him to reply.  

 

“Yes, your majesty,” the boy replied. He bowed his head again, but his eyes flickered over toward Zelda.

 

“King Dorephan tells me his daughter thinks very highly of you, lad.  Lady Mipha’s healing power, she would be willing to use it to help you, though you are not a Zora?” King Rhoam gave the knight knowing look, and underneath bushy white eyebrows, his eyes twinkled at Link.  

 

_ Well, of course she would, _ was Chanson’s dismissive thought.  Who in the kingdom did not know how Lady Mipha pined for Link?  Still, Chanson wondered at the king’s playfulness with Link considering how harsh he had been with Zelda just moments before.  Storm clouds were brewing over the princess’s brow.

 

“Father, we have healers aplenty, here in the castle,” she protested.  “Surely, you are not suggesting he journey alone, wounded, just to be healed by Mipha!”  She raised up both hands in an exasperated gesture. 

 

“Should I risk the health of our hero, Zelda?”  King Rhoam lost his twinkle when he turned to his daughter.  “You, yourself, said that while he is brave, he is not immortal.  He bears the sword that seals the darkness. If infection set in, if Link were to fall ill, all hope is truly lost for Hyrule, unless your sojourn to Death Mountain uncovered any shred of hope for you?”

 

Princess Zelda bit her bottom lip and shook her head.  

 

“No,” she replied in a very small voice.

 

“Then we will put Link into Lady Mipha’s very capable hands. AND -- “ he cut off his daughter who had opened her mouth to protest, “he shall not go alone.”  Princess Zelda looked up hopefully at this. “But not with you, Zelda.”

 

Her face fell.  “Then with whom? A member of the Royal Guard?” she asked, “I suppose he could use the protection.”  She threw an apologetic glance at Link. 

 

Even with his injury, Link was still more than capable of besting any soldier in the guard.  He would be fine travelling by himself, Chanson thought, resentful of the princess’s concern for the knight.

 

“Sire,” Link spoke up.  “If it please you, I am not gravely injured.  It is not nece-”

 

“Nonsense!  You are currently our  _ only _ hope, my boy,” King Rhoam rumbled.  Zelda dropped her head, hiding her face.  “To Zora’s Domain you shall go. We have already found you a suitable travel companion.”

 

“Yes, sire.”  Link acquiesced, but he appeared uneasy.  It seemed fairly clear to Chanson that the boy did not want to go, for whatever reason, but a king’s command was to be obeyed without question.

 

Hope began to brew in Chanson’s heart.  Link was leaving! To Zora’s Domain. He would be gone for days!  He began to plan all the ways to win time by his lady’s side without the insufferable blue-eyed knight staring him down.  Perhaps he would meet her by the altar to Hylia, a love poem on his lips. Would he be allowed to escort her to the castle gardens and pluck a rose for her?  There could be so many opportunities to woo her without her shadow trotting along behind. A dreamy smile crept over his face and he gazed longingly at Princess Zelda who stood with her head bowed, her hands clasped.  

 

Lady Impa leaned over to speak quietly to the king.

 

“Chanson!”  boomed the king.  The poet jerked his head up, snapped out of his reverie of reciting love poems to a blushing Zelda beside a flowing fountain.

 

“Your majesty!”  He answered, sweeping off his hat.  His voice seemed much too loud in the echoing room.

 

“Lady Impa reminds me that the Zora kingdom has several stone monuments inscribed with the history of the domain.”  Chanson glanced at Impa, who smiled encouragingly, and then back at the king. What was he talking about?

 

“Uh, yes, sire,” Chason stammered, his mind a blank.  “I -- I, uh, made a study of them at one point. They, in part, tell how the Zora and the Hylians worked together to -- um-- build a dam.”  That was part of it, at least. There was also a charming love story about the Zora queen, but he did not suppose King Rhoam would be interested in that.

 

“You shall accompany Link to the Zora kingdom and transcribe these histories that we may keep a copy in our castle library.”  The king smiled. “Perhaps you may be inspired by such a noble people and return to us with new songs to inspire our own hard work.”  Here he gave his daughter a pointed look.

 

Chanson stared rudely at the King, completely nonplussed.  The king wanted him to do what now? Travel with  _ Link _ , of all people.  He shot a look at Impa who nodded and smiled.  The king cleared his throat. Chanson remembered himself and dropped to a kneeling position, genuflecting before the king.

 

“It-- it is a great... _ honor _ , your majesty,” he managed to say.  His head swam with a thousand questions. What in the world was Impa thinking!

 

Princess Zelda had been staring blankly at her father during this exchange, but she quickly found her voice.

 

“ _ Chanson?!  _  The  _ poet  _ gets to go?”  Princess Zelda was incredulous.  “The histories don’t even have anything to do with Calamity Ganon or Hylia or --”  She was livid. Link glanced at her, apprehension widening his eyes. Chason considered how upset Link must be if he were showing any emotion at all.  Well, that made two of them! Or three of them. Princess Zelda wasn’t finished.

 

“Mipha insisted on reading them to me the last time I was there,”  the princess complained. “Those stone monuments are practically a Zora love story, for Hylia’s sake!” 

 

“All the more fitting for our resident bard,” the king remained calm in the face of the princess’s ire. “Wouldn’t you say, Chanson?  You have a head for language and a heart for romance. Bring us back a lyric to lighten our days.” 

 

Chanson’s tongue lay thick and useless in his mouth.  He could not refuse the king, but he had no desire to travel so far away from Princess Zelda.  With Link.

 

“What possible good is Chanson going to do for Link?” Princess Zelda argued.  An idea seemed to strike. “Besides! I need him here. Robbie and Purah need him for their research, and I want him to play the goddess hymns while I pray.”  She raised her chin defiantly. “I find his music most inspiring during my rituals. So you see, I cannot possibly spare Chanson.”

 

Chanson felt faint.  It was too good to be true.  She wanted him with her. Chanson threw a triumphant smile toward the knight. Link’s eyes moved from Princess Zelda to the poet and back to the princess again.  The corner of his mouth twitched. 

 

Link had remained silent, as usual, during most of this exchange, but his quiet voice suddenly rang out in the large room before King Rhoam could respond to Princess Zelda’s demand that the poet stay with her.

 

“Thank you, Chanson.” Link turned toward the surprised poet.  “I appreciate you joining me on my journey.” He glanced nervously at the princess who had gone very red in the face.   _ What!?  _ She mouthed at Link.  No sound, but the word was clear.  

 

Link did not respond to her her silent question.  Instead, he dropped to kneel before King Rhoam once more.

 

“Thank you, your majesty.  With your permission, I will prepare for my journey at once.”

 

King Rhoam smiled at Link.  “May Hylia grant you safety and speed.  You don’t want to keep Lady Mipha waiting.”  The king chuckled at his little joke.

 

Link paled and shot another anxious glance at the princess.  She resolutely refused to look at him.

“You too, poet!  Make haste!” King Rhoam waved him away.  “Lady Impa will send a message to King Dorephan immediately to let him know he and his lovely daughter will soon have guests.”

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


And so, barely a day later, Chanson dreams of running his fingers over the strings of his lyre and maybe, oh maybe, earning the right to run his fingers through Princess Zelda’s golden hair, were dashed to bits.  

 

Instead, he found himself running for his life from a blue Hinox on the outskirts of Zora’s Domain.  In a blind panic, Chanson urged his horse to go faster, only vaguely aware of Link on his horse, Epona, circling the fearsome monster, trying to lure it away from the poet.  

 

The Hinox let out an earth-shaking roar, spooking Chanson’s horse.  It reared, squealing in terror, and threw Chanson, who landed with a painful thud. Concussed and confused, he struggled to stand up and run when he felt a powerful blow push him to the ground once more.  

 

“Down, down!!” Link shouted over the Hinox’s roar.  “Get down, Chanson!” 

 

Link pushed him to the ground and went charging after the beast.  Chanson covered his head with his arms and squeezed his eyes shut.  If this was the end, he hoped it would be quick. Chanson felt the whoosh of air as a boulder heaved by the Hinox just missed him and landed in the pond.  The splash covered Chanson, soaking him completely, all the way down to his boots. He was grateful really, since he was pretty sure he had already wet his pants.  When they found his body, his secret would be safe.

 

With his eyes still shut tight, Chanson heard Link’s guttural battle cry and the unpleasant meaty thud of a sword hitting flesh.  The Hinox screamed, thrashing and tearing down trees from the sound of it. Link grunted in pain, but there was another thud and another and another.  

 

“Hyah!” cried Link.  There the sound of steel and another blow hit the mark.  The monster roared again. 

 

Finally, after what seemed a terrifying eternity to the cowering poet, the Hinox uttered one last long and prolonged cry that echoed through the hills before crashing to the ground.  

 

In the sudden silence, Chanson whimpered, too afraid to lift his head.  He could hear the nervous whinnies of the horses in the distance and closer still, the labored breathing of the young knight.  

 

When Link collapsed on the grass next to Chanson, the poet ventured to lift his head.  Link sat, his arms resting on his knees, trying to catch his breath. He glanced down at the quaking singer, concern on his face.

 

“You okay?”  he asked. Chanson managed to get himself into a sitting position next to Link and took stock of himself.  His head ached terribly, and he felt bruised and sore. He raised a tentative hand to his face and discovered a small cut on his cheek.  All in all, he was battered but alive. A little shaky, he managed to nod at Link. 

 

“Good,” Link nodded firmly and heaved himself to his feet.  Chanson was amazed. After what he had just been through, and he was already standing again. Link stretched his arms high over his head, inhaling deeply and then exhaling as he brought them down again.  He stood in a wide-legged stance, rolling his neck and shoulders, assessing himself for damage it would appear. 

  
  


Apparently none the worse for wear, he went back to retrieve his weapon from the monster’s body. Link wiped the master sword on the grass, cleaning off as much of the tacky, black Hinox blood as he could before sheathing it on his back.  Chanson gazed in wonder at the young knight, who, despite the battle he had just fought, looked bright-eyed and full of vim and vigor. He practically glowed with vitality, as if he had just been for a brisk walk as opposed to being locked in a clash between life and death.   _ The chosen of Hylia, indeed _ , was Chanson’s dizzy thought,  _ the goddess’s radiance lights his brow _ .  He swallowed thickly and considered throwing up.

 

Link stood with his hands on his hips, scanning the area for their mounts. Luckily, they had not gone far.  Link’s Epona was loyal to her master and while Chanson’s gray gelding was not, it had stayed close to Epona.

 

“I’ll go round up the horses,” the knight told Chanson, who still sat on the ground, knees trembling.  “I’ll bring your pack to you. You might want to get out of those wet clothes.”

 

Chanson nodded again, mute and shaking.  Now that the adrenaline was leaving, he could feel the cold setting in.  He wiggled his toes and felt them squelch inside his boots. How had his life come to this?  Sighing, he began unbutton his sodden doublet.

 

In no time at all, Link had managed to corral the frightened horses and settle them down. He really did have a way with the animals.  He tossed Chanson’s pack to him and busied himself with making a small fire, giving him a bit a privacy as the poet stripped off the rest of his fine clothes.  He pulled on his traditional Sheikah tunic and pants, thankful he had the forethought to pack comfortable and warm clothing. He grieved over his ruined silk and velvet, however.  So much for making a good impression on King Dorephan. 

“You may want to warm up a little before we start out again,” Link made conversation as he tended the blaze.  “The temperature is going to drop as the sun goes down.” Chanson, still not trusting himself to speak, sat down by the fire and started to undo his top knot.  His wet hair hung down to his shoulders, silvery in the afternoon light. He ran his fingers through his hair, attempting to put it into some kind of order. He thought about retrieving his comb from his pack, but his head still ached.  Comfort won out over vanity.

Link had not bothered to clean up, other than to wash his hands and face in the pond.  His hair was dusty and stuck to his sweaty forehead, but he was otherwise unharmed in the battle with the Hinox.  Astonishing really. The only wounds he had were the ones that had started them on this whole trip to begin with: the gash on his forehead and the nasty cut on his forearm.  It beggared belief that Link, injured as he was, had been able to dispatch the Hinox so quickly with no further harm done to his person. Not that Chanson had doubted Link, but his skill in battle was supernatural.  He truly was Hylia’s chosen, the hero of Hyrule. 

 

“We could make camp here tonight,” Link seemed to be thinking out loud, interrupting Chanson’s thoughts, “but I dunno if you should sleep after hitting your head like that.  Are you dizzy at all?” 

The throbbing in Chanson’s head had not decreased, and the world occasionally wavered around him.  “Mmm-hmm,” he managed to reply. Ironic that the poet had no words at all, and the laconic Link jabbered away.  

 

“I thought so,” Link nodded.  “Well, it’s not going to be a comfortable ride, but we need to get you to Zora’s Domain as soon as possible.”  He stood up and walked over to the horses, adjusting saddles, arranging the packs. “Looks like Mipha will have two patients instead of one,” he said conversationally as he continued to gather up their belongings.  Chanson opened his mouth to register protest when he saw Link wad up his silk shirt and shove it into his bag, but he closed it without saying anything. What was the point? He just wanted to sleep. If only the pain would stop.

 

Link extended a hand to Chanson, helping him to his feet.  Chanson stumbled just an instant before leaning heavily on the knight.  

 

“You’ll be okay soon enough.  Mipha will have you good as new, if not better.”  Link continued his constant, reassuring chatter while guiding Chanson to his horse.  Link helped him mount and once he was sure the poet wasn’t going to tumble back down again, he turned to Epona and swung himself up into the saddle.

 

Chanson clenched his teeth and focused on not falling off his horse again.  


	8. Chapter 8

 

_ Lady Mipha.   _

 

If Chanson were not already deeply in love with Princess Zelda, the Zora princess would be a worthy muse.  Chanson had never met someone so kind, so self-sacrificing. Her people adored her.

 

He was but a humble Sheikah poet --  a no one to the Zora, and yet once Link had explained the situation, she immediately ordered Chanson to a soft bed with pale blue linen, obviously reserved for Hylian guests.  She lay her cool, delicate hands upon his aching brow, and within moments the pain was gone. Chanson felt like he could climb a mountain, swim an ocean, such health and vitality had been imbued by Mipha’s touch.

 

“My lady,” he gasped.  “I never knew such power and such grace could co-exist.  How may I thank you for this service you have done for me?”

 

Lady Mipha turned her beautiful, golden eyes upon him and smiled.

 

“Oh!  You are too kind,” she ducked her head bashfully.  “I am happy to heal any friend of Link’s.”

 

Friend was rather a strong word for how he regarded Link, but Chanson held his tongue.  The Zora loved Link, almost as much as they loved their Lady Mipha. The fact that their princess had fallen deeply in love with Link probably had something to do with their high praise of the Hylian champion.  If he was good enough for Mipha, he was good enough for them, at least from the Elders’ point of view.

 

Among the younger folk, Link had friends who appeared to appreciate his merits beyond Mipha’s approval.  A group of young boys had mobbed Link as soon as they had arrived. While Mipha took care of Chanson, Link gave sword fighting lessons to the youth clamouring for his attention.  

 

From an open window in Chanson’s room, Mipha looked down upon the “training” with a tender smile.  

 

“How patient and careful he is with the young ones,” the Zora princess remarked.  “He will be a wonderful father one day.” 

 

Chanson arose from the bed and took a look.  Link had one screaming child over his shoulders, spinning him, while two more hung on to either leg.  Letting out a primal grunt, Link heaved the child on his shoulders into the deep end of a nearby pool.  The resulting splash rose to impressive heights. 

 

Link shook off the two children clinging to his legs and hunkered down menacingly.  

 

“Who’s next?” he growled.

 

A chorus of screams answered him, and the youngsters set upon him again.

 

Mipha laughed before leaning out of the window.

 

“Children!”  she called, “Children!  You must leave Master Link be for now.”  A collective groan went up from the group.  Link sat up from where he had been knocked to the ground.  

 

“I am sorry, children, but King Dorephan requests an audience with the Hylian Champion.”  Reluctantly, the children began to wander away. “I am sure he will have time for you tomorrow!  Right, Link?”

 

Link glanced up at Mipha and nodded. Chanson noted that he looked a little surprised.  He had not known he was being watched, then. If he had, he would not have made such a fool of himself, thought Chanson. The hero of Hyrule acting like a child.

 

Mipha turned to Chanson, still smiling brightly.  “Audience is rather a strong word. Father just wants to say hello before I take Link to tour Vah Ruta.”  She looked down and blushed. “It has been a long time since I have had the opportunity to speak to Link privately.  He’s so often busy with Princess Zelda.”

 

Chanson nodded in commiseration.  Oh, he knew all too well how much time Link spent with Princess Zelda.  He watched Link dust his pants and wander off in the direction of the Zora throne room.  

 

“He certainly does!” the poet replied sourly.  

 

“Not -- Not that he’s wrong to do so!”  Mipha exclaimed, ever loyal to her beloved.  “He is Princess Zelda’s appointed knight. It is his duty!”

 

Chanson felt a squeeze of sympathy for the poor girl.  She was terrible at hiding her true feelings. Not that he was any better.  He just had not had the opportunity to show Princess Zeld how much she meant to him.  

 

“It’s just - I have missed -- Oh, Hylia,” Lady Mipha sighed, raising one hand to shield her blushing face.  

 

“My lady,” Chanson knelt before her and took her free hand.  “You need not explain. I understand.”

 

Mipha lowered her hand slowly and gave Chanson a mournful look.

 

“Am I so transparent?” she asked with a shy smile.

 

_Yes,_ thought Chanson. 

 

“No, my lady!”  he replied. “Not at all, it’s just that I am in a similar situation.  I, too, feel the sting of a love unexpressed.” 

 

He had Lady Mipha’s full attention now.  

 

“You also -- suffer silently?”  she asked, careful with her words.  

 

“Lady Mipha,” Chanson sighed, “the heartache I have endured has been great.”  Truly, he had suffered. Here was one who might understand. 

 

“Oh, Chanson,” the Zora princess squeezed his hand.  “I am so sorry to hear it.” Such a magnanimous soul!  With her warm sympathetic gaze upon him, Chanson wondered if he dare unburden his pain to her.

 

“While I doubt my beloved and I can ever truly be as one, it would comfort me if I knew there was the remotest possibility of her reciprocating my affection.”  He realized the truth of this as soon as he said it. The Princess of Hyrule, the avatar of Hylia could never...what? Marry him? No. It was impossible.  If he could show her how he felt, if she could love him from afar.  It would be enough.

 

“I sympathize with your plight,” Mipha told him quietly, lifting his hand, indicating he should stand and face her, her equal in heartache.  “I simply have not had the opportunity to explain myself, not since I became aware of the depth of my feeling.” Chanson mourned for the girl.  To love so deeply and not be allowed to profess it was torture.

 

“However," her sweet, musical voice continued,  "I -- and I know how foolish this may sound -- I do have hope that perhaps my love and I shall be together.”  She blushed again. “I have a plan to -- well, I don’t know if propose is the right word…”

 

Chanson’s heart squeezed painfully.   _Oh, oh lady. No_...he wanted to warn her.  No one could know what went through Link’s head or who had claim to his heart, but Chanson had seen no indication that Link felt more for Lady Mipha than he did for...Daruk, say...or Urbosa.  When she greeted them upon their rather undignified arrival, her joy and enthusiasm did not find a match in Link’s laconic greeting. 

 

“You intend to ask Master Link to ma-”  Mipha raised a hand to his lips, cutting off his words.  

 

“Oh! Don’t say it!  No one else knows my intentions, except for Father,” she whispered.  “I am simply giving him a gift is all. Something special to the Zora people.”

 

Chanson reflected upon what he knew about Zora culture and came up with a blank.  A ring? A spear? What did the princess have planned for Link? She may do best to serve him a meal.  A bellyful of roasted trout was likely the best way to Link’s heart.

 

Mipha smiled shyly.  “I took inspiration from the histories you are here to transcribe,” and she gestured to a spot upon her breast, just above her heart -- a dull depression in her skin.  

 

She was missing a scale.

 

Chanson’s chin lifted in recognition.  Ah! The Zora armor! She had sewn her own scale into it for Link’s protection.  

 

“I see,” Chanson answered her, careful to keep his expression pleasant and supportive.  Who knew? Maybe Link loved her too and just did not know how to react. Anything was possible.  Perhaps the moment needed to come to some kind of a crisis for him to realize his feelings. 

 

“Do I dare, Chanson?” she asked in one eager breath.  “I will take him to Vah Ruta this afternoon, and when the evening spreads across the sky, I intend to give him the armor I have made.”

 

Chanson had to admire the plan.  A romantic sunset on the water. A confession of love and a symbolic gift.  There was poetry in it. Maybe he could compose something for their wedding...

He gave himself a mental shake and focused upon the Lady Mipha who was waiting expectantly for his reply.

 

Well, why not?  If Link married Lady Mipha, he would be kept away from Princess Zelda, at least until they combined their powers to defeat Ganon.  Chanson would have ample opportunity to plead his case if Link was given more time to visit his fiancee. King Rhoam had all but given his support to the pairing.

 

“Fortune favors the bold, dearest lady,” Chanson smiled.  “I hope that I may soon play at your wedding.”

 

Lady Mipha inhaled deeply, “Thank you!  Thank you, Chanson!” Pressing his hand one last time, she departed the room, off to seek her destiny.

 

Chanson wished her the very best.  Certainly, Lady Mipha could do better than a gluttonous, mostly mute knight with a tendency to look right through her.  But the heart wants what it wants, and Chanson could not deny that Link did have some positive traits. But would it have been worth it, after all, if Link refused her?  The poet hated to think of the dear princess grieving, but at least it would resolve the issue. To have an answer, one way or another, after pining for so long, would be a relief, no matter the outcome.

  
  


* * *

 

 

After a brief rest, Chanson was thoroughly recovered and spent the rest of his day exploring the stone tablets which recorded the Zora history.  The actual inscriptions were fairly short and did not require much time to write down, but the distance between the monuments meant he spent a good deal of time hiking from one stone to the next.  Unlike Princess Zelda who had the Sheikah slate to record such things, Chanson relied upon parchment, quill and ink which was messy and a bother to pack and unpack. As much as he hated to admit it, Princess Zelda should be here in place of Chanson.  She would have had these histories recorded in a “snap,” as Purah would say. Honestly, he did not know why he was even here. What a waste of precious time! 

 

Even so, Chanson was surprised when he looked up after examining the sixth monument and found the sun already setting.  Off in the far distance, he saw Vah Ruta, trunk proudly raised in the air against the pink and gold sky. Squinting a little, Chanson could see two figures perched atop the trunk. Lady Mipha and Link.

 

Smiling to himself, he breathed a small prayer to Hylia, wishing the lady courage and success before he made his way back down the mountain.  He hummed a little as he trekked back to the main square. Perhaps King Dorephan and his daughter would allow him to play for them this evening.  He had the perfect song to share, _The Legend of Ruto._

 

* * *

 

 

At dinner, no official engagement was announced though Lady Mipha sat quite close to Link, eyes turned to him adoringly, watching his every bite and sip.  Link still wore his blue Champion's tunic -- no mention of armor was made -- and his wounded forearm was pink with newly healed skin.  So, it had gone well for the lady, Chanson thought, though she had not gone through with her plan to propose.  At least she had gotten close enough to touch her beloved and maybe confess even a hint of her love.  Chanson was happy for her.

 

When the meal was over,  Chanson sidled up to Lady Mipha and raised his eyebrows, a silent question.  Well? 

 

Lady Mipha blushed and shook her head.  

 

“There will be time,” she told him, “Yes -- there will be time to ask -- well, what I wanted to ask, but at least I said _something._ ”  She smiled at Chanson before turning her attention back to Link.

 

What exactly she said to Link, Chanson never found out, but her confession encouraged him to perform Ruto’s legend for the assembled Zora and Link.   King Dorephan and his court applauded Chanson most enthusiastically after this performance.  Link clapped politely. Chanson remembered the morning he played the goddess’s ballad during Princess Zelda’s devotions.  The master sword had slipped from Link’s grip, scraping the stone, when he heard the ancient melody. Unfortunately, the love story of Ruto did appear to affect Link quite as much.

 

Link stood up to excuse himself shortly after this performance, claiming the need to prepare for the journey back to Hyrule Castle.

 

“Oh!  But you’ve only just arrived!” Lady Mipha exclaimed.  “Surely, you are not needed back at the castle yet?”

 

Chanson watched this exchange hopefully.  How wonderful to head home, back to his beloved princess.  On the other hand, if Link wanted to stay with the Zora for a longer period of time, Chanson could venture back alone.  He did not relish the thought of encountering any beasts on the way back, but he would risk it if it meant he could spend time with Princess Zelda.  Alone.

 

At least he thought he would risk it.  That Hinox had been terrifying, and according to Link, the blue ones were nothing compared to Lynels and wasn't there some rumor about a Lynel nearby on Ploymus mountain...King Dorephan’s loud voice jerked Chanson from his musings.

 

“We grieve to see you go so soon, Link” boomed King Dorephan, “I know my daughter has missed seeing you.”

 

“Father!” squealed Lady Mipha, raising a hand to shield her eyes in embarrassment.  King Dorephan laughed at this and patted his daughter gently. The Zora elders chuckled knowingly, but Link wore a bland expression.

 

“We understand your duty to Hyrule takes precedence.  However, your poet has not examined all of our monuments.  I hope you can be induced to stay until he has completed his task?”

 

Chanson tried to maintain a pleasant expression, but damn it all!  He had had enough of cold, misty mountains and slippery rocks and leaky ink bottles.  Truly, the Zora Kingdom was a realm of beauty and enchantment so long as one remained within the walls of the Domain.

 

“Oh, yes,” Lady Mipha turned to Link with a happy smile.  “Please, do!”

 

Link glanced at Chanson.  The poet stared into Link’s vacant blue eyes, willing him to read his mind.  He did not want to look at anymore mossy rocks. He wanted to go home. To Princess Zelda.

 

“Very well,” Link replied.  “We can stay until Chanson has finished the task given to him by King Rhoam.”  And with that, Link bid them all a good night.

 

Chanson fought down a sigh. At least it was good news for Lady Mipha.  

  
  


* * *

 

 

Chanson awoke the next morning before dawn with Link thrusting a lantern in his face.  

 

“Wha--??” was Chanson’s first undignified utterance, followed by an indignant, “I beg your pardon!!”  He clutched at the coverlet, bringing it high over his chest. 

 

Link set down the lantern and rummaged through Chanson’s pack before throwing a pair of trousers at him.  

 

“What is the meaning of this!?” Chanson sat up in bed. “The sun has not yet risen!” A tunic landed in his lap, next to his trousers.

 

“Up!  Let’s get those transcriptions done.  King Rhoam is expecting them and we need to be on the road before midday,” was Link’s curt response.

 

Chanson rubbed his eyes.  What was the fool talking about?

 

“Why?  What is the rush?” he protested.  Not that he wanted to be away from Princess Zelda any longer than necessary, but honestly, waking up a man before dawn was just cruel.  

 

“Get a move on,” Link ordered. “I’ll meet you at the north entrance.”  He paused on his way out the door. “Don’t delay, Chanson.” 

 

Then, he was gone.  

 

Chanson blinked and debated just rolling over and going back to sleep.  Link’s urgency brooked no argument, however. Had there been a message from the King?  Were they needed back at the castle?  Chanson doubted that the knight would let him get away with sleeping in.

 

And so, about an hour later, with the sun just peeking over the horizon, Chanson found himself standing before the seventh monument with Link sitting cross-legged next to him, pen and parchment in hand.

 

Chanson read aloud while Link wrote.  It did go much faster with two of them working on it, Chanson thought.  Who knew the muscle-bound lunk could read and write?  Wonders would never cease.  If only Princess Zelda was here, working with him on the inscriptions as they had done so often in the past with the Sheikah poems and relics.  This miserable task would almost be worth it if she were by his side.  

 

“Okay, that’s it for number seven.  Only three more to go,” Chanson said brightly rubbing his hands together.  Three more and he could have breakfast. And maybe a nap.

 

“No, that’s the last,” Link answered, rolling up the parchment and standing up.  He tucked the roll into Chanson’s pack and turned back toward the palace. 

 

“No,” Chanson protested.  “I only finished six yesterday.  We just did one. There are three left.”

 

Link threw him a backward glance.  “No, I did the final three last night.   They keep torches lit so visitors can read them anytime they want.”  

 

Chanson stared in astonishment at Link’s retreating back.  He moved so quickly down the mountain that by the time Chanson recovered himself, he had to jog a little to catch up.

  
  


It was just past midday by the time King Dorephan allowed Link and Chanon to leave Zora’s Domain.  Booming speeches and gifts of friendship had to be given before they left. Link received a beautiful silver spear, and a silver circlet inlaid with sapphires was sent to Princess Zelda.  Even Chanson was presented with a gift -- a tiny carving of Ruto. 

 

“The Zora people are most grateful to you, Poet, for your role in preserving our history and lore.  You do us honor,” Lady Mipha declared when she placed the carving in his hands. It was all very thrilling for Chanson, who was still something of a village boy at heart.  

 

Lady Mipha was valiant in her attempt to hide her disappointment, but sadness lingered in her eyes.  Chanson knelt and kissed her hand in farewell. Link lingered a bit longer with her, speaking quietly to the lovelorn princess.  Her eyes lit up at whatever he said, but when he turned to face Chanson, heading toward their mounts, Link’s face was as blank as ever.  

  
  


* * *

  
  


On the ride home, Chanson’s thoughts stayed on Lady Mipha.  Such a paragon of kindness and loyalty, she was a champion worthy of a song.  By the time they made camp that evening, Chanson had a theme composed. While Link tended the fire and set out the provisions, Chanson played the melody on his lyre.

 

Link smiled, “That suits her.”  Chanson was gratified by this. “Did you play it for her?” Link asked.

 

“No, I’ve only just composed it. It helped to spend time with her, gave me the inspiration,” Chanson explained.  Link considered this and nodded. Chanson continued, “Since you know her so well, I hoped you might be able to give some insight to help me finish it.”

 

Link shrugged, “Sure.  What do you want to know?”  He settled in to sit more comfortably, arms resting on his knees. 

 

“How long have you known Lady Mipha?” Chanson asked, rustling about in his pack to find a scrap of paper.

 

Link looked upwards as he counted back through the years.  “Since I was about...Four? Four or five.”

 

Chanson held his pen poised over his parchment. That was surprising.  “Four? So, young! How old was she?” 

 

“Oh, she was almost a grown up even then,” Link answered.  “She looked after us young ones. Healing us when we got too adventurous. She’s always been that way, looking out for others.”  

 

“So her healing power manifested early?” Chanson probed.

 

Again, Link shrugged.  “I guess? I don’t know when she first discovered it.”

 

“Is it a common trait among the Zora or the Zora royal family?  As the sealing power is for the royal daughter of Hyrule?” Chanson wondered if there was any relation between the Zora princess’s power and Princess Zelda’s.  If they knew more about Lady Mipha’s healing power, perhaps it would shed light on how the sealing power could be manifested.

 

Link frowned.  “I don’t know. I never thought to ask.”

 

Chanson lay down his quill.  This was less informative than he had hoped.  

 

“For such a tender soul, she is surprisingly fierce.  I hear she very good with her spear,” Chanson probed again. Perhaps Link had more insight regarding her battle skills.

 

“Oh, yes!  She’s one of the best, if not the best, of all the Zora.”  Link nodded with approval, his eyes lighting up. “She’s deadly with the spear.”  

 

Finally!  He had gotten some kind of reaction from Link.  

 

“She’s rather a fascinating contradiction.  A healer who can kill. A loyal daughter who defies Zora traditions to pilot Vah Ruta.”

 

“Hmm, ”  Link nodded slowly as if he had never considered this before.  He bent forward to adjust the pan of mushrooms sizzling over the fire.

 

“She knows her own heart, certainly,” Chanson hinted, “and her father trusts her decisions.”

 

Link looked Chanson straight in the eye.

 

“I guess.”  His tone was flat and Chanson practically saw the doors clang shut.  He sighed, but he was determined to push forward.

 

“I just mean to say…” Chanson hesitated under Link’s empty expression.  “She was very open with me about certain...hopes.”

 

No response from Link.  Okay, maybe he could try a different tactic.  He felt that he owed it to Lady Mipha to at least try to ferret out Link’s feelings about her.

 

“I have composed some songs for Dr. Robbie.”  Chanson cleared his throat. “Songs for Cherry, you know?”  Link squinted at Chanson, wondering at this sudden shift in topic.  “While working in the lab with Princess Zelda, I witnessed the growing relationship.”  

 

A crack in the facade appeared.  Link widened his eyes.

 

“I just mean, if you wanted --”  Chanson gestured at the lyre resting beside him, “If you ever wanted to send a verse or a song to a lady, I would be glad to offer my composition to you.”

 

Link’s carefully composed expression collapsed into something akin to panic.

 

“What?”  he almost whispered.

 

“I already have part of it composed.” Chanson tried to explain, alarmed at the knight’s reaction.  There could be no doubt of Mipha’s feelings for him. She had said she spoke to him atop  Vah Ruta.  Why did he looks so surprised?

 

“So, when it’s finished, if you wanted to make a gift of it to the lady…”  He stuttered to a stop. Link’s eyes were wide and a pulse jumped in his neck.  Chanson peered nervously at Link, hesitant to say anything more.

 

“You mean to Mipha?”  Link finally asked.

 

“Who else?”  Chanson replied.  Relief crept across Link’s face.

 

“No,” Link shook his head.  “No...no, thank you.” He said politely.  “No.”

 

He went back to stirring his mushrooms.

 

Ah.  Well.  The feelings were one-sided.  Chanson had suspected as much.  

 

* * *

 

 

A sudden lightning storm slowed their travels, and the poet and the knight were forced to spend one more night out of doors before returning to Hyrule Castle.  Chanson felt almost sick with longing for his princess. The Zora princess was a worthy muse and one of the loveliest ladies he had ever met, but he missed Princess Zelda.  He missed her golden beauty and her clever wit. He wanted a chance, as Lady Mipha did with Link, to tell her how much she meant to him. There will be time, Lady Mipha had told him, but Chanson was not so sure.  The dark gloom of Ganon’s return sat on the horizon, and as a result, the hours between sunrise and sunset seemed very short to him. Had he the time, he would take a hundred years to write the perfect sonnet to her eyes and a hundred years more to the sweetness of her lips.  Alas, the sun hurried through the sky, and the hours slipped by faster and faster. Here it was, another day spent away from her. Another day wasted.

 

Snuggled into his bedroll, the bright stars above them, Chanson soothed his worry by considering the beauty of the night.  It felt daring to sleep out in the wild, listening to the the crickets and frogs singing the world to sleep, the scent of wildflowers and grass on the breeze. Chanson tried to imagine Princess Zelda in the same place.  Would she enjoy it? Or did her refinement demand a softer bed. Did she suffer the wild for her devotions and her research?

 

“Is it always like this?  Traveling with the princess?”  Chanson asked.

 

Link sat up on his bedroll was polishing his sword.  They had lit no fire that night -- Link worried it could attract the attention of monsters -- but the moon was bright enough to give Link light.  He gave a noncommittal shrug. “Mostly. It depends upon where we go.” He grinned. “More monsters in some areas than others.” 

 

Chanson tried not to roll his eyes.  The lout enjoyed those fights, though the poet supposed that made Link an ideal guard.  Just so long as he did not go looking for a battle.  

 

“I told you yesterday that I wanted to compose a ballad to honor the champions.  You heard my composition for Lady Mipha yesterday.” Link’s grunted an affirmative response, eyes on his sword.  Chanson watched Link’s motions for a moment before continuing, “However, I long most to compose a ballad to honor our princess, Zelda.” Chanson felt very daring saying her name like that.  He watched Link to see if he would react to this familiarity. Link did not look up.

 

“I’ve struggled to put her to music,” Chanson confessed.  “I cannot seem to find the right notes to capture her spirit.”  Chanson’s eyes went back to the sky and thrilled to see a falling star streaking across.  

 

“I could write of her beauty,”  Chanson mused, almost to himself, eyes on the sky. “She is most beguiling.”

 

Link was very quiet.  Chanson continued to look up, feeling the breeze on his skin, listening to the horses cropping grass nearby.  After a long pause, he heard Link murmur, “yes, very beautiful.”

 

“But she’s more than that!”  Chanson turned on his side to face Link and raised himself up on one elbow.  “She’s a scholar, one of the most dedicated I’ve ever known, and I’m a Sheikah!  I know scientists!” Link was watching Chanson intently, the sword momentarily forgotten.  

“I don’t know how to put all that she is to music,” Chason groaned.   “You spend so much time with the princess, perhaps you could tell me--”

 

Link’s eyes glowed in the moonlight.  He looked wolfish...and dangerous.

 

“Tell you what?” Link asked evenly.

 

“I don’t know,” Chanson confessed, anxious with those glowing eyes upon him. “Tell me what it’s like to travel with her.  Does she like being outdoors? What do you do when you travel with her?”

 

Link reflected a moment.  “It’s much like this,” he finally answered.   “I make camp, and Zel- uhm -- Princess Zelda sorts her notes or labels her samples.”

 

“What about when she travels to the springs?”  Chanson imagined the princess, clad in white, lifting her arms to pray.  Would she bathed in moonlight, the radiance of the goddess surrounding her?  What a figure of heavenly purity and piety! To serve as her attendant during the divine ritual in such a sacred space would be honor indeed.  Chanson knew inspiration would strike if he were to see her performing the goddess ceremony. Such heavenly music he could compose if he were blessed with such a vision.

 

“It’s about the same,” Link told him.  “If we’ve gone to the spring for her to pray, I’ll make sure there is fire, no matter the danger, so I can cook a hot supper for her, and so she can change her clothes in the warmth, like I did for you the other day.”  Link shrugged. “The water is so cold, and she often takes a chill.”

 

Chanson felt frustrated.  Link was speaking but he was not really saying anything. _About the same._  Participating in a ritual to communicate with the goddess was _about the same_ as any other night camping.  Chanson again fought the urge to roll his eyes. He should have known Link would focus on the mundane aspects -- like filling his belly.   _Cook supper,_ indeed. After communing with the goddess, who could even think about food? Chanson imagined the princess sipping the clearest water, nibbling a choice fruit, at most.  Surrounded and infused with divinity, she would need little earthly sustenance. 

 

Chanson glanced at Link, who took up his sword again.  Something niggled at him. _Like I did the other day for you._

 

As far as Chanson could remember, when Princess Zelda departed for the Spring of Courage or the Spring of Power, she wore her white priestess gown.  She would return in the same attire. It never occurred to him that she would have any reason to take it off during the trip. Though upon consideration, it made sense that she would not spend a night in wet clothes, nor would she travel in the dress if not absolutely necessary.

 

_ Like I did the other day for you. _

 

Link had been only a few feet away, keeping lookout, while Chanson hunched over the fire, stripping off his sodden clothing, naked and shivering in the open air.  Did he mean to say he had been that close to a naked princess? Princess Zelda took her clothes off in front of Link? Or rather in front of Link’s back. The blood was beginning to pound in Chanson’s ears.   Out here, in the wilderness, Link would not, could not, venture far while the princess was so vulnerable.

 

He tried not to picture it.  The princess, all creamy skin, shivering in her sheer, white gown.  It would be wet and clinging, the weight of the water dragging it down...Chanson shook his head.  Surely, Link would keep his head turned when the princess departed the water, the ritual too sacred to be viewed by those not of goddess-blood.  Surely, Link had never seen what Chanson’s imagination insisted upon showing him. He looked over at the knight.

 

Link’s gaze was abstract as he looked up at the full moon, lost in thought.  A small, strange smile was pulling at the corner of his mouth and there was that wolfish gleam in those blue eyes.  Link became aware of Chanson staring at him and abruptly stood up. 

 

“I’ll check the perimeter and then let’s bunk down.  It’s an early start tomorrow if we are to get back before night.”  He strode off before Chanson could ask him any questions.

 

The moon was high in the sky by the time Link returned to settle into his own blankets.  Chanson imagined Princess Zelda in this place, her bedroll just a foot or two away from Link's. Chanson heard Link's breaths slow and deepen until he was snoring quietly.  It was uncomfortably intimate. 


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our lovelorn poet gets suspicious...
> 
> On a side note, the feedback has been wonderful!! Thank you all so much for the thoughtful and inspiring comments. It is a joy to read your responses to this story. Thank you!!!

  
  
  


When Chanson and Link saddled up the following morning to return, there was the slightest frisson in the air, an unspoken tension that did not fade away as the dew did in the rising sun.  Both young men avoided eye contact and conversation, focusing on breaking camp and heading home to Hyrule Castle.

 

The night air and the bright moon had loosened Chanson’s romantic tongue and sparked his imagination in ways he had never dreamed.  Perhaps he had revealed too much to Link, either through his words or his actions, but with the strength of his passion, he could not keep his love hidden for long.  If he were to tell the princess how he felt, what did it matter that anyone else knew? He bit his lip, replaying his words to the princess’s appointed knight.

 

He had confessed only that he found Princess Zelda beautiful, and he wanted to write a song to honor her.  It was no more than he had done for Lady Mipha, but Chanson still fretted. He had never shied away from confessing his love before, but then, he’d never revealed himself to his lady love’s personal guard and protector -- a protector who had a dangerous manner when Chanson’s questions about Princess Zelda became too personal.

 

To love a lady from afar, especially a lady unattainable, was allowed -- nay, encouraged! -- in courtly circles.  Such romances were at the heart of many a song. Of course, the love of such a lady must be pure, without hope of physical consummation.  Up to this point, Chanson’s thoughts towards Princess Zelda were chaste. She was the goddess incarnate, so while he thought her beautiful, had considered the softness of her hands and the shine of her hair, he had never sullied her with such low imaginings as crossed his fevered brain last night.   

 

Under the stars, with the night wind blowing through the grass, a wildness in the air, Chanson’s mind turned to a decidedly carnal direction.  Princess Zelda was the goddess in a mortal body, and what a body it was! Full of hip, small of waist, she was a ripe and fertile maid. Chanson passed a hand before his eyes, as if to wipe the vision away.

 

Chanson knew where that kind of admiration took you, and it was nowhere noble or at least, no where _he_ could go with one of the nobility.  He had thought his love for Princess Zelda to be pure, but his imaginings last night revealed there was a depraved longing that tinged his affection.

 

Oh, he was unworthy!  With her divine task before her, with her every waking moment dedicated to purifying herself for Hylia’s approval, what kind of unprincipled cad would even think of her like that?  Someone with a death wish, that’s what, considering the fate of the entire world rested on Princess Zelda unlocking the divine power of the goddess. Not to mention what King Rhoam or her appointed knight would do to him if they ever suspected he imagined the princess nude in the moonlight.  Mortification burned his cheeks.

 

Did one look at the statue of Hylia and feel amorous?  No! Did Hylia’s benevolent smile and motherly physique turn one’s thought to soft sighs and unions of the flesh?  Absolutely not! And he should not think of Princess Zelda with her wet, white gown clinging to her body, transparent in the moonlight, hanging low off of her full breasts.  The blasphemy of it took his breath away and he hung his head in shame.

 

Riding up beside the poet, Link shot Chanson a concerned look.

 

“Are you feeling okay?” Link called out.  “You aren’t going to faint or anything?” Link pointed to his own head.  The poet had hit his head very hard only a couple of days ago.

 

Chanson gave Link a furtive glance and shook his head.  

 

“No, I’m fine!”  He answered in what he hoped was a chipper tone. “Lady Mipha’s touch healed me thoroughly.”  Although upon consideration, it might be a good idea to let Link think he still had a concussion.  He could blame any uncharacteristic words upon his injury.

 

Link continued to look doubtful.  Chanson had been shaking his head and muttering to himself quite a bit in the last hour or two.  

 

“It’s just…” Chanson opened his mouth, and for one horrified instance, he thought he was going to spill the truth.  Thankfully, a partial truth came to mind just in time. “I am composing...for the Champion’s song. You remember?”

 

Link nodded slowly.  Chanson laughed. How false it sounded in his own ears.

 

“Don’t mind me!  It’s just the frustration overtakes sometimes when the words just won’t come.”

 

Link pursed his lips, seeming about to respond before thinking better of it.  He leaned over to pat his horse’s neck and urge her to move a little faster.

 

Who could blame him?  Chanson would not want to be in the company of a madman either.  

 

* * *

 

 

Link did not speak to Chanson again until they stopped by a stream to water the horses and give Chanson a chance to stretch his legs.

 

“So,” Link’s voice startled Chanson who was standing next to the stream, nibbling his thumbnail and wondering how he was ever going to manage to look Princess Zelda or King Rhoam in the face again.  He had never had this problem with Laura! 

 

Chanson looked up at Link nervously.   Link cleared his throat and began again, a little louder.

 

“So, you are writing a song for the champions.”

 

Chanson nodded.  He had already told him so.  Was this an awkward attempt at conversation?   _ Oh, Hylia.   _ He was in no mood for small talk.  Who knew what direction such a conversation could take.

 

“Is that why you were asking me those questions before -- a few weeks ago?  About the sword?” Link prompted.

 

“Yes, of course.  You are the Hylian champion and will have your own verse.”  Chanson brightened, voice full of hope. Maybe he did just want to talk about the song.   “Would you like to describe your adventure in the Lost Woods? Tell me how the sword called to you?”

 

Link reached behind his head to grip the pommel of the master sword.  He stood still and looked as if he were listening to a song that only he could hear, his head cocked to one side.  He looked like a golden Hylian retriever. What a strange fellow this hero was! 

 

“No,” replied Link.

 

Ah.  Oh, well.  He was not surprised.

 

“But maybe I can help with the others,” Link offered, letting go of the pommel and rubbing the back of his head self-consciously.  

 

Link’s unexpected offer was all well and good, but the other champions had been most welcoming to Chanson already, back when he spoke to them after the garbing ceremony.  Daruk was an open book. Urbosa graciously answered his questions, and Revali — honestly, he had more material than he knew what to do with when it came to Revali’s verse.  The proud Rito archer waxed long and poetic when it came to his accomplishments.

 

The only two Chanson had not been able to write for were Link and Princess Zelda.  With Link, it was understandable -- the knight would not talk about himself at all.  With the princess, Chanson should have been able to write pages and pages, but so much of it rang hollow.  He could describe her beauty and her wisdom, but he was just sketching a bland outline of her. He had not been able to capture her spirit.

 

“Please, Sir Knight.  I would welcome your input,” Chanson finally answered politely.  Link hunkered down, crouched in the grass. Chanson forced his protesting muscles to sit cross-legged beside him.  He was not used to spending so much time on horseback.

 

“Who do you want to talk about?” Link asked.  As if he didn’t already know, sighed Chanson. It was a trap.  Alas, he was a fool and he intended to walk right into it.

 

“If it please you,” Chanson said, “would you be able to speak of Princess Zelda?”

 

Link stared at him for a moment, his blue eyes uncomfortably intense, before he nodded. Looking out over the water, he considered his reply.

 

“Princess Zelda works tirelessly for her kingdom,” he began, his words coming slowly.  “She spends every waking moment considering how to best defend her people.” He gave Chanson a stern look.  “I wish more people knew that.”

 

Chanson reached for his pen.  He knew that about her already, but he would take what he could get.  Besides, there were plenty of her subjects who seemed to doubt her dedication.  Maybe they should be reminded of her hard work. He could dash out a catchy tune regarding Princess Zelda’s efforts, but he wanted to make something sincere, a song to ring true, not just sway the masses.  He dutifully scribbled a note about the princess’s work ethic.

 

“She’s stubborn — never gives up on a problem,” Link announced after a pause.  Again, Chanson had seen this in the Royal Tech Lab. She and Purah would spend days working to unlock a single rune on her Sheikah slate.  Even when the princess was called away for other duties, she would sneak in scraps from her research journal to work on whenever a spare moment arose.  Chanson once saw her in court, seated on the throne next to her father, surreptitiously reading notes she had hidden within the voluminous sleeves of her blue gown.  

 

“She sews well,” Link indicated his tunic with a smile.  “You can see the handiwork that went into this.” Chanson knew more than Link might even realize about that.  He had watched the princess sew the final stitch into that garment.  “It fits perfectly, and when I wear it, it’s almost as if my senses are keener.  I can gauge my enemies’ power better.” Link rolled his shoulders, appreciating the range of motion the tunic gave him.

 

Chanson looked up from his paper with interest.  

 

“Would you say there’s magic crafted into the garment?” the poet inquired.  “A gift from Hylia, perhaps?” A magic shirt was not quite as exciting as a magic sword, but Chanson could work with it.

 

Link shook his head.  “Hard to say.” He frowned in thought.  “More Zelda’s craft than Hylia’s magic, I think, but maybe…”  He shrugged.

 

Maybe, indeed.  An enchanted tunic, the mysteries of the goddess stitched into every seam.  Chanson wrote faster. This was promising.

 

They sat in silence while Chanson wrote.  Link ran a fingertip over the white embroidery decorating the hem of his tunic.  When Chanson had finished writing about “Hylia’s warp and weft, weaving magic into the Champion’s blue,” he looked up expectantly at Link.  

 

“Is there anything that you can tell me that -- well--”

 

Chanson considered how to ask the question.  

 

”Can you tell me something that most people would not know about her.  You know, things you would not see within the castle walls?” the poet asked.

 

_ Like how she looks when she emerges wet from the spring? _  Chanson’s traitorous mind suggested.   _ Do you know Link?  Have you seen her long legs bare, or the curve of her bottom when she huddles over the fire and wrings the water from her hair?   _

 

Shameful desire flooded Chanson, and the quill trembled in his hand.  

 

Link thought a moment.  “The princess likes it out of doors.  She never minds camping while doing her field research or when we journey to the other kingdoms.”

 

_ Do you hear her quiet breaths as she sleeps next to you under the sky?  Does she sigh in her sleep? _

 

“She’s good at administering first aid,” Link continued, rubbing the faded cut on his forehead. “She’s not a healer like Mipha, but the princess has bandaged me up when I needed it.”

 

So, Link had felt Princess Zelda’s soft hands upon his sweaty brow.  He had looked up into her luminous eyes, her sweet lips so close to his, as she tended his wounds.  It was not fair!

 

Chanson set down his quill and rubbed his face with both hands.   _ Focus, man!  Focus!  _ It was being away from civilization that had done this to him.  Take a man away from society and he becomes little more than a beast.  He glanced over at Link who was thus far unaware of Chanson’s distress.

 

_ And you, Master Link?  Are you such a noble champion that you are unmoved by the wild?  Does the soul of the hero keep you chaste and devoted? Or are you worse than I? You, with so many more opportunities to defile Hylia’s priestess with your ever staring eyes. _

 

Chanson thought he might be going mad.  He took a drink of tepid water from his leather canteen and wiped his mouth.  He had several hours more alone with this man who inflamed such jealousy within his breast.  He must calm himself. 

 

He cleared his throat and tried to adopt a nonchalant air.  “So? Is there anything most of her subjects would not expect?”

 

Link watched Epona nibble grass, eyes unfocused as he searched his memory.  “She nearly outran three Yiga clan members, in the middle of the Gerudo desert,” he said, admiration evident in his tone.

 

“Nearly?” yelped Chanson.  He knew something had happened during that last trip to Gerudo town, but three Yiga members chasing their princess across the desert was too horrifying to imagine.  “How did she escape if she  _ nearly  _ outran them?

 

Link grinned.  “Oh, I killed them for her, but she was  _ fast.”  _  Chanson’s quill was still, poised above his notebook.  Link was genuinely impressed by her. “It’s not easy to run in the sand like that,” he explained when he noticed Chanson’s astonished look.  

 

“How in the world did she even come to be in such danger!” Chanson was indignant.  Some appointed knight! The princess of Hyrule, destined to save the world from certain doom, would never find her power and destroy the Calamity if her own knight protector was so careless with her!

 

“She gave me the slip,” Link explained, having the grace to blush and look down in guilt.  “She used to do that.” He sighed. 

 

Chanson remembered.  More than once he had run into Link scurrying around the castle, as bewildered and frantic as such a stoic fellow could appear.

 

“Not so much anymore, but I’m pretty fast myself and not a bad tracker.  The princess still got away from me several times.” Link looked Chanson directly in the eye.  “She’s  _ stealthy _ .”  There was a slyness in Link’s tone that Chanson did not care for.  Not at all. 

 

“She can creep up on you before you know it,” the knight huffed out a quiet laugh, his gaze again unfocused and staring off as he remembered something.  “It can be funny in the castle, but out here in the wild, it’s a bit... _ unnerving _ .”  

 

A secret, subtle smile played about Link’s lips and Chanson felt that hot hand of jealousy grip him by the throat.  He took a deep breath to try to clear that choking sensation. Link looked over at Chanson and his smile dropped. He stood up.

 

“If I remember anything else, I’ll let you know,” Link stated in a tone that let Chanson know the conversation was over.  

 

With that, Link walked over to his horse and began tightening her saddle, prepping her for the final leg of the journey.  He did not speak to Chanson again until they returned to the castle.

  
  
  


* * *

 

  
  


It was a melancholy princess that greeted the poet and her knight when Chanson and Link were summoned by the king a day after their arrival home.  Sitting beside her father in the throne room, she appeared pale and drawn and had very little to say. She had been locked away for the better part of a week, purifying herself and praying with only two ladies-in-waiting for company.  Despite the uninterrupted dedication to prayer, Princess Zelda still had no power. 

 

The king’s advisor was worried, and after his audience with King Rhoam, Impa filled him in when she beckoned him to join her in her private study.  Tomes and parchment scattered her desktop and chairs, but she quickly cleared a space for them to sit. 

 

“Forgive my disorder!  There has been so much to attend to lately, both for the royal family and for my own upcoming event.”  A small, secret smile curved Impa’s lips as she referred to her forthcoming wedding. “I try to keep things tidy, but alas! You see the state of things.”

 

Chanson was not bothered by the clutter.  He wanted to know about the princess.

 

“Tell me of Princess Zelda.  How did she fare while we were away?” he asked the Lady Impa.

 

“The King would not allow her time in the Tech Lab,” Impa told Chanson.  “She’s not even been allowed outside of the castle this whole time, not even to the field or gardens.  Without Link, the King worried she could be attacked, but also, he is convinced she just needs more time in her devotions to unlock her powers.”  Impa shook her head. “She’s not eating or sleeping either. Her handmaidens report that she is up late into the night even though she arises before dawn to complete the rituals.”

 

“She does not look well,” the poet answered her.  Chanson’s grieved for the princess. She had been so subdued, and the smile she had given when Link and Chanson presented themselves lifted the corners of her mouth but did not reach her eyes.  She scarcely looked up at either of them, keeping her eyes fixed on her clasped hands. If only Mipha’s touch could bring back Princess Zelda’s spirit, but the princess’s wounds were not of a physical nature.

 

“I don’t know how much more she can do.  She can try the ritual at Mt. Lanayru soon enough, but until then --” Impa sighed. “I just don’t see how locking her away will help.  Being sad and alone cannot be conducive to unlocking her power.” 

 

“But she had her ladies-in-waiting, no?”  Chanson asked, “and you spoke with her?”

 

“She does not share much with her ladies.  They have little interest in what she talks about -- ancient relics, scientific research, horticulture.  As for me -- can any of us truly understand what she is going through?”

 

Chanson shook his head, mute.  To have the entire kingdom watching her, waiting for her to manifest the power to save them while she failed again and again and again...a living nightmare.  Chanson considered the night under the stars, the songs of the crickets and frogs in his ears, the wind blowing fresh and wild. Link said that Zelda enjoyed camping out.  For the girl who loved nothing more than being free in the wild to collect her flowers and frogs for study, to be trapped within the castle walls was a terrible punishment.

 

“There are the champions,” Impa continued, “but their role is to support her.  They do not bear the full burden.” Impa continued, “Besides, King Rhoam compares their successes with their own power to Zelda’s failure.  They are the heroes of their people. Zelda -- well, her people have not been so kind.”

 

“They have been cruel, “ Chanson clenched his fists.  “To speak so of one’s princess, especially one who works as hard as she does is without excuse.

 

“Perhaps,” Impa replied, “But they speak out of fear.“ 

 

Chanson knew this to be true, but it made no sense to treat Princess Zelda so callously.  If she were to call upon the power of Hylia to save them, it stood to reason she may have an easier time if she thought kindly of those she was meant to save.  

 

“Thank Hylia for Link,” Impa went on.  “I think he may be the only one in the castle who listens to her without condemning her.”

 

“Not the only one!” Chanson said indignantly.  Link, indeed. Link with his sly smiles and staring eyes.  Impa raised an eyebrow.

 

“You don’t say?”  She gave him a sly grin.  “Well, you always did fall hardest when there was no chance at all.”

 

Chanson sputtered, trying to find a suitable response to such insult.

 

“Oh, calm down, lover!”  Impa laughed. “I’m glad the princess has a friend in you, but don’t expect anything from her.  She has too much to deal with to worry about a lovelorn poet underfoot.” She patted his hand affectionately.

 

“Is that why you sent me away?”  Chanson challenged her. “There was little need for me of all people to transcribe the Zora histories.”

 

Impa grinned at him.  “What do you mean? You were quite taken with those stories as a youth.”  She laughed at his sour look. “Oh, Chanson, you needed to get your head out of the clouds and your feet back on the ground.  What better way than a nice long trip.” She took on a sly look. “Besides, absence makes the heart grow fonder, haven’t you heard?”

 

Chanson had heard such a sentiment repeated often enough.  However, he was not the only one who had been sent away to Zora’s Domain.  Whose absence had made Princess Zelda’s heart fonder? He did not think he wanted to know the answer.

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


With Link’s return, and with Impa’s gentle pressure, King Rhoam finally relented and allowed Princess Zelda a day of field research -- but one day only.  He would not have her wasting any more of her time “larking about in the grass” when her power still remained hidden. 

 

So, when the princess’s day of freedom dawned gray and overcast, she was determined to set out, bad weather or no.  She and Link set off for the Bridge of Hylia, heading toward West Necluda. Chanson did not know what her purpose was, but he watched them leave from a castle parapet.  Very shortly after the pair departed, a gray curtain of rain obscured the view and he retreated into his rooms to mope. 

 

He was lovesick and sad.  His lady had given him no time since he had returned.  Princess Zelda's blank stoicism over the last week could give Link’s a run for his money.  She had no time for music or feasting. The mornings found her kneeling at the altar of Hylia.  The evenings found her either studying the sacred texts and prayers or making further orisons to Hylia by moonlight.

 

She was not sleeping.  Even if Impa had not told him so, the bluish shadows beneath her eyes disclosed her fatigue.  He could sympathize. Though he was back in his own plush bed and could settle down for a comfortable rest without worrying about Hinoxes or being awoken by Link’s snoring, Chanson had not been sleeping well at all.

 

He was haunted by dreams of Princess Zelda’s slender arms and curving hips, dreams which turned into nightmares where he was chased by wolves with blue, staring eyes.  When he awoke from such dreams, he would remember how hungry Link looked when he stirred his mushrooms over the fire. The look was far too similar to the expression the knight wore when Chanson asked him about the princess’s rituals at the springs.

 

Chanson sighed and flung himself onto his bed.  With his face buried into a silken pillow, he tried to remember what his old granny did for him when he was sick and could not sleep as a child.  Warm drinks. A bitter brew that stank of herbs but often did the trick. Chanson wondered if this would be a good excuse to speak to the princess.  She was an expert on herbs and their uses. But no, if the king caught wind of that, he could be in trouble for distracting her. 

 

Singing.  That always soothed the spirit.  A gentle lullaby might do the trick.  There was no one to sing to Chanson on this rainy day, but perhaps he would find comfort in composing for the princess a song to help her find rest.  

 

Once the idea took hold, Chanson could not stay in bed.  Grabbing his lyre, he set to work.

 

The hours passed quickly for the poet, and by the time the sun hung low in the sky, he had composed a melody that pleased him.  He had based it off an ancient tune he found recorded in a dusty roll of parchment, tucked away on a high shelf in the Royal Library.  It was not finished, but he was pleased with the start of it. He looked out of his window, and seeing that the hour was late, he decided that a trip to the dining hall was in order.

 

He was sitting at a long table with Robbie and Impa, chasing a morsel of roasted cucco with a sip of dry, red wine when Princess Zelda arrived, Link following close behind.  There were water droplets clinging to her damp hair and she bore a mound of purple flowers in her arms. A broad smile lit her face, making her eyes sparkle. She was the goddess of flower and field made flesh.  Chanson gasped, and promptly choked on his wine. Robbie blinked at him through his goggles, and thoughtfully slapped him on the back.

 

“A good day, was it?” Lady Impa asked her, rising to take the flowers from her.  She passed the bouquet to a serving girl. “Take these to the princess’s study,” she directed the girl.

 

Princess Zelda cast a look over her shoulder, where Link stood just a few paces behind.  Chanson gave the appointed knight an appraising look. He stood there surrounded by the good smells of roasting meat and pastries, and the gluttonous boy, who was always hungry, looked suspiciously sated.  Princess Zelda turned back to Impa with a bright smile.

  
“Oh yes.  A  _ very _ good day.”


	10. Chapter 10

 

Other than a brief trip to the Spring of Courage, Princess Zelda had been mostly confined to Hyrule Castle and its surrounds, which meant there should have been ample opportunity for a lovelorn poet to see his beloved.  Unfortunately, the Royal Tech Lab was now off limits to the princess, so unless she decided to dine in the Great Hall or the king summoned her to court, Chanson was having a very hard time finding an excuse to be near her.

 

He had his own role to play, and there had been many visitors of late, so he had little time to wander the castle or make excuses to linger near her chambers.  The four champions all had cause to meet with Zelda, and each one had regular visits. More often, however, worried dignitaries from across the land arrived at the castle, ostensibly to learn more of the portents and plan for Ganon’s attack, but in actuality, they were eager to know if the princess had finally manifested the sealing power.  

 

Under the circumstances, King Rhoam thought it best to keep them occupied with songs and feasting and to keep Princess Zelda out of their sight -- which meant she was mostly out of Chanson’s sight as well.  The poet was kept busy singing songs and reciting poems that told of the defeat of Calamity Ganon over the course of Hyrule’s history. His songs calmed the anxious citizens of Hyrule. If they had defeated the Calamity so many times before, surely they would seal the monster away again.

 

While Zelda was mostly absent from these events, the poet saw plenty of Link, much to his chagrin.  When the anxious visitors learned that their princess still had not found the power to defeat Ganon, King Rhoam would summon Link, the sight of whom generally reassured the guests.  Their princess may be a failure, but at least they had the hero of legend, and what a handsome, talented fellow he was! Chanson happily supported the visitors in their praise for it meant they forgot about Princess Zelda’s failure, at least for a little while.  It was a small price to pay to bring her peace.

 

For his part, Link stood strong, silent, and unsmiling and let the people fawn over him.  King Rhoam would sometimes have the Sheikah scientists demonstrate the capabilities of the Guardians, and Link would be asked to repeat his performance with deflecting lasers with pot lids or King Rhoam would have him draw the master sword and demonstrate his prowess with the weapon.  

 

“Thank Hylia, for you, my boy!” the village leaders would exclaim, clapping him on the back.  

 

“What skill with the sword!” the youths exclaimed.

 

“You are sure to save us!” the ladies sighed.

 

Link never reacted much to these accolades, unlike others.  Revali, for instance, preened with every compliment cast his way when he came to Hyrule Castle.  To be honest, Chanson, himself, would have difficulty staying humble with such praise, but Link did not give any indication that he wanted or appreciated the attention.  As usual, he stood with a face of stone, it being anyone’s guess what he really thought about everything.

 

This changed when his stoney pal, Daruk, arrived to give his report on Vah Rudania.  The young knight showed much greater enthusiasm than he did for any of the other dignitaries.

 

Chanson also showed more enthusiasm because it meant Princess Zelda would be on hand to greet Daruk and hear his updates.  Chanson did not have any reason to attend Daruk’s debriefing, but come evening, he was stationed in the Sanctum where he led his group of musicians in several variations of Goron folk songs, reworked by Chanson for Hylian and Sheikah instruments.  Some of the lords and ladies attempted to dance, and servants milled about, offering drinks and refreshment for both Hylian and Goron tastes.

 

Daruk clapped his huge, rocky hands and roared his appreciation.  

 

“Now that’s what I call music!”  He gave his broad, big-toothed grin.  “Well done, Minnesinger!” At least that’s what Chanson thought the champion called him.  For a moment he was gratified that Daruk was so well versed in the poetic tradition.

 

“I was tellin’ the Little Guy and Tiny Princess that tune really makes me feel at home!”   Daruk told him, and Princess Zelda, standing beside the Goron champion, nodded with a bright smile. 

 

Ah. 

 

_ Mini singer. _

 

That did not have quite the same panache, but he could forgive the brute since it meant Princess Zelda’s radiant smile shone upon him.  Chanson drunk in the sight of her, resplendent in her formal blue gown. She was less guarded with Daruk and his entourage than she was with many of the guests, and her smile was relaxed, her eyes sparkling as she turned toward Chanson.  The poet’s heart beat faster.

 

“Chanson is a Sheikah of many talents,” Zelda told Daruk, “and he has been most helpful to both Link and me.”  To hear his name on her lips was sweet. “We are very grateful for his music and his dedication to the old legends, aren’t we, Link?”  She turned to her appointed knight who stood on the other side of his Goron friend. 

 

Link looked at the princess, with blue eyes both warm and affectionate.  The stoic mask was not gone exactly, but he was remarkably more relaxed than Chanson had ever seen him in court.  

 

“I have found inspiration in the music.” Link replied, a small smile lifting the corners of his mouth.  His eyes were locked on Princess Zelda, not sparing even a glance for Chanson.

 

Did he?  That was news to Chanson.  He wondered which songs in particular. The legends of course, the epic songs of Hylia and her chosen knight had spurred a reaction in the knight. That must be what Link meant, he reasoned.  The only other songs he sang lately tended to be of a rather romantic nature. If Link were finding inspiration in those…well, Chanson did not want to consider what those could inspire the knight to do.

 

“Oh, yes” the princess said, arching a brow, and Chanson noted with a sinking feeling that her eyes roamed Link’s face, taking in his eyes, his nose, his lips.  With her scholarly eyes, she made a study of the knight’s face and seemed pleased by what she saw. Link kept his eyes on the princess until she looked down, a tinge of pink in her cheeks.  The elation Chanson felt at her praise faded. The two of them did not appear to remember that Chanson or Daruk were there at all.

 

“You don’t say!”  Daruk exclaimed, turning with interest to Chanson.  At least he was paying attention! “Do you happen to know a song about Darunia?”

 

Well, of course, Chanson did.  It was a long and lengthy one and he and his fellow singers took turns with the verses.  Eventually, it was sung through, but by that point, Princess Zelda had excused herself for her evening prayers.  Chanson still had not had a chance to play her lullaby for her. He gritted his teeth and comforted himself with the thought that he could soon retire to his own bed, where he could torture himself with thoughts of his fair princess, staring into Link’s eyes. If nothing else, he could wring some verses from his heartache.  The ones he had already written were very good, if he were honest with himself. At least he had the blessing of poetry and music to soothe his pain.

 

It was not fair.  He could have accepted her affection for a nobleman.  Afterall, a love affair between a princess and a court poet was doomed for tragedy.  There was a kind of beauty in that. But for her to have eyes for a boy from a village even more remote than his own!  At least he was of the Sheikah tribe, loyal servants to the royal family of Hyrule. Link was a castle guard! No more worthy of a princess’s love than...well...than Chanson was.  

 

And Chanson grew more certain by the day that Link returned Princess Zelda’s affection, at least in part.  He was so closed off. Who could really know for sure? 

 

So what if he did?  The rules of courtly love stated that there was no crime in two men loving the same woman.  In fact, it only proved the worthiness of the beloved. Chanson could not help but think of Mipha, pining for Link, her hopeless engagement gift stored away for “one day.”  Link was already well on his way to breaking one princess’s heart. Chanson would not stand to see him break Princess Zelda’s heart as well, but how to let the princess know she needed to take care?  

 

Chanson knew the romances.  To forbid contact only inflamed passion.  He was a case in point. Princess Zelda’s absence around court only made the poet’s desire burn with greater intensity.  Besides, he was in no position to tell the princess anything, and he had to admit, she needed Link’s protection. He glared over at the knight, who was laughing at one of Daruk’s jokes.

 

The Sanctum was nearly empty by this point, with only a few guests lingering over drinks.  Daruk and Link had wandered toward a balcony facing north. Chanson assumed they were looking out over to Death Mountain in the distance, where the Divine Beast Rudania waited for her master’s return.

 

He had no intention of remaining a second longer than he needed to stay.  Chanson fully intended to go off and sulk over another wasted evening with the princess.  So, when he passed by the balcony where the champions stood, he did not intend to linger, but then he heard Daruk’s loud voice cut through the night.

 

“The Tiny Princess?  Really!” The Goron sounded impressed.  Chanson stopped in his tracks. Chanson peered out, straining to hear Link’s reply to Daruk’s startling outburst.  Link’s mouth moved, but it was no use. Chanson could not hear him, but in the torchlight, he saw the shy, eager expression the boy wore.

 

“No, I don’t think so,” Daruk answered an unheard question.  “Sounds like a good thing to me!”

 

Link looked up at his friend hopefully.  He moved closer to Daruk and the Goron leaned down to hear better.  Link began to gesture expansively and his brow furrowed, worry blooming on his face.  Chanson burned with curiosity. What could Link possibly be telling Daruk about Princess Zelda?

 

“Heh!  Sounds heavy, little guy!”  the Goron slapped Link on the back, “But I wouldn’t sweat it.”  Link made a choking kind of sound as Daruk’s massive hand made contact, but he looked relieved. 

 

“As we say on Death Mountain, it’s all gotta blow sometime!  Can’t live with all that tension, you know?” Daruk’s laughter burst forth.  Chanson felt his stomach sink. He did not like the sound of that.

 

Link nodded, but he cast his eyes from side to side, looking around nervously.  Chanson pulled back into the shadows, hoping that his claim to being of the “shadow people” would serve him better this time around.  

 

“Heh-heh, though I guess that’s a different kind of ten-- What?”  Link gave Daruk a fierce look and drew his hand across his throat in a sharp gesture.  

 

“Ho-Ho-Ho, Little Guy!” Daruk laughed.  “I get it! Mums the word, eh?”

 

Link gave him a warning look.  There was no misinterpreting that expression.  

 

“But sometimes it ain’t the words that give it away!”  Daruk laughter rang out through the nearly empty hall. Link shook his head, his exasperation clear.  Chanson heard Link bid Daruk good night, and the poet scurried away from the balcony as quickly as he could.

 

“You bet!  I’m gonna hit the slate myself.”  Daruk yawned, his huge mouth gaping.  Daruk followed Link out into the corridor before catching sight of Chanson, who was making every attempt to look nonchalant.

 

“Hey!  Mini Singer!  Thanks a lot for the song!  Felt almost like I was back there with the Sage of Fire himself.”  He stroked his chin. “You got real talent, kid!”

 

And with that, the Goron champion lumbered out to find his rest, leaving Chanson to twist between pleasure at the praise and bewildered despair as he wondered what Link had told Daruk about the “tiny princess.”

  
  
  
  


* * *

 

 

He tried not to skulk about.  He really did. But he was desperate for the sight of her, for the sound of her voice.  

 

Chanson visited the Royal Tech Lab each day in the hopes that the king had relented and allowed Princess Zelda to continue her research alongside the Sheikah scientist -- all to no avail.  With this failure, he devised another plan. He begged Robbie for a box of gears or cores that he could deliver to the princess. It had not worked before, but try, try again! 

 

“But why?” Robbie asked, scratching his head with a screwdriver.  His eyes were huge behind his goggles.

 

“She’s been forbidden to work here in the lab any longer, Dr. Robbie!” Chanson exclaimed. “But she is still allowed to work in her study.  I thought it would be a kindness to take her some relics to aid in her research…” His voice trailed off. It sounded so foolish when he said it aloud.

 

Robbie shrugged.  “I guess you can have these spare parts, but I think the princess already has quite a few of these.”  He gestured to a pile of gears and screws. He frowned at Chanson. “But why would you care?”

 

“Oh, Dr. Robbie,” Chanson sighed, “I suffer in love, much like you did with Cherry not so long ago.”  No point in concealing it. There was no crime in loving, especially when the hopes of his love being returned in any way grew slimmer each day.  

 

“In love…” Robbie blinked at him.  “In love with...Princess Zelda?” 

 

“It is true,” sighed Chanson, placing a hand over his heart.  “I know it is mostly hopeless as she is a noble daughter of Hylia, and I am but a humble poet from Kakariko.”

 

“Well, yeah,” Robbie said, “not to mention that she’s already in lo--”

 

“AND -- “ Chanson interrupted Robbie angrily, “I would be most grateful if you would assist me in seeing her -- especially since I wrote you three songs for free,” he finished with a pointed look.

 

Robbie threw up his hands.  “Sheesh! If you wanted to call in a favor, just say so.”  He pushed a box of metal bits and bobs toward Chanson. “If you were nicer, I would have given you an ancient core to give to the princess.  That would be a gift better than these” 

 

Chanson had no idea what an ancient core was, but he was determined to have it.

 

“Hand it over,”  Chanson ordered him with a grim look.  After all the work he had put into Robbie’s romance, he had expected more gratitude.

 

Robbie laughed and held up a glowing glass ball, twisted round with wires.  

 

“Give me new verse for my Cherry, singer, and we’ll talk.”

 

* * *

 

  
  


He came upon them in a small courtyard.  Chanson was roaming the corridor, the small golden core warm in his breast pocket, looking for the princess.  From an upper parapet, he looked down to see Princess Zelda kneeling near a small statue of Hylia, a prayer book in her hands.  Link stood a few steps away, his back to her, looking out into the distance -- thinking knightly thoughts, Chanson supposed. If he did care at all for Princess Zelda, how could he stand with his back turned?  If Chanson were privileged enough to be near the princess, he would not be able to keep his eyes off of her. That would make him a very poor guard, he knew, but that was why he was a poet and not a knight.  Chanson drank in the sight of Princess Zelda. How regal and solemn she looked with her head bowed, her golden circlet glinting in the sun.  She looked down at the book, her lips moving with the words of ancient prayer.

 

Why the prayer book appeared to have a diagram of some kind of Sheikah machine tucked in between the verses, Chanson was sure he could not guess.  Or rather, he could guess, but he did not blame his princess. No one could doubt her devotion to the goddess. No one except her father. With all the time she had spent in prayer and ritual with nothing to show for it, Chanson was beginning to wonder if there was not something more to this sealing power.  He had searched the legends, memorized the verses, but he was at a loss. Chanson longed to help his lady, but the power of the goddess remained a mystery.

 

Princess Zelda closed the prayer book with a sigh and looked up at her knight.  Chanson pulled back so he was hidden behind a stone outcropping. He laid a hand over his breast, where the golden core pulsed with light and felt a moment’s shame for remaining hidden and not announcing himself.  However, all the most famous lovers gazed upon their ladies from afar. In the game of love, he was not breaking the rules, though his conscious pricked him all the same.

 

“I’ve been thinking about what you said,” Chanson heard the princess announce.  He peeked over the parapet to see her rise to her feet and sit at a small bench near the goddess statue.  

 

Link turned to look at her, and Chanson sucked in a breath when he saw the look in the boy’s eyes.  Here, in the secluded courtyard, far from the suspicious eyes of courtier and kings, the knight’s heart was in his eyes.  

 

“Come,” the princess patted the bench next to her.  “Sit down.” Obedient, Link sat down next to her on the small bench.  Chanson’s temper rose when he saw how their knees and shoulders touched.  

 

“I know father thinks me selfish,”  Princess Zelda twisted her hands in her lap, “but if I can do some good, shouldn’t I try?”

 

Link reached out a callused hand and laid it over her nervously twisting ones.  She stilled her fidgeting.

 

“I told you what I think,” the knight replied, a sweet husky quality to his voice.  Chanson did not like the sound of that at all.

 

“You bring me such comfort, Link,” she turned her palms up to clasp his hand in hers.  One of his thumbs gently brushed her palm, a soft, reassuring gesture.

 

“And you to me,” he said quietly.  Chanson could not see Link’s face very well, but he could imagine the expression based upon the princess’s reaction.  He moved slightly to the right to get a better view.

 

The princess’s eyes glowed with happiness.  “I am glad that I can bring good to at least one of my subjects,” she teased.

 

“You do,” he smiled at her, threading his fingers with hers, giving her hand a reassuring squeeze.  “You know you do. Except when you try to make me eat live frogs.”

 

“Oh!” Zelda laughed.  “Be fair! It was for science!  Besides, I only asked you to taste it, not  _ eat _ it!”

 

Link gave her a doubtful grin. “Taste, eat...same difference.”

 

Chanson wasn’t so sure about that.

 

“No indeed!  Tasting implies a mere touch of the tongue, not…” her voice faltered as she heard her words aloud.  She blushed a shade of red Chanson would find most charming if he were not currently being eaten up in the agonies of jealousy.

 

“Well, you know what I mean,” she finished rather breathlessly.  Link nodded, but his mouth had gone lax, open slightly, as if he were having trouble catching his breath.  How close they sat to one another! If Link were to lean his head just the slightest bit, they could practically…

 

And then the knight did lean forward, and the princess tilted her face up and there it was.  The softest pressing of lips. Link was kissing Princess Zelda.

 

Chanson vision went white and his heart thundered in his ears.  The cur dared to touch her royal person, to defile her. Chanson prepare to leap the wall, broken bones be damned!  

 

Princess Zelda gently laid a hand on either of Link’s shoulders and turned her head slightly to the side, to find a better fit with Link’s mouth.  From his angle, Chanson could see her lips had parted, and there was no doubt that she welcomed Link’s kiss. There was no doubt that this was not the first kiss shared between the two.  His legs, tense and ready to spring, went weak.  There was no point in defending the maiden if she did not find offense.  Oh, the misery of it!

 

Delicate and teasing, the princess took the lead, growing bold with her kisses, and the knight followed, his hands dropping to rest lightly on her small waist. He made a soft sound in his throat, and Zelda broke away, laughing softly.

 

“Well, now.  I think you see what I mean,” she said in an eager whisper, her forehead coming to rest against Link's.

 

Link sat dumbly, his lips swollen, his pupils blown.  He swallowed hard and nodded.

 

Princess Zelda took a deep breath and looked down before boldly looking Link in the eye.  She reached up to stroke a stray bit of hair from his eyes.

 

“I would -- that is -- I would like to think that was just a -- well -- a  _ taste _ of things to come,” she gave her knight an alluring glance from beneath her lowered lashes, and Chanson felt his heart crack into a thousand tiny, sharp fragments.


	11. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Chanson and Link spend a lot of time bumping into each other in corridors, don't they?

 

No man who is vexed with too much passion is truly in love.  So the ancient romantics would say. 

 

After seeing Link kiss the princess in the courtyard, after seeing her kiss him back with obvious pleasure, Chanson was thrown into the blackest of despair.  He reminded himself that it was common for a lover to pine for a woman who had another love. In fact, many a sonnet was composed to a lady who was already married.  There was no crime in loving, so long as the love was pure.

 

After seeing Link and Princess Zelda embrace in the courtyard, Chanson took himself to his chambers to mourn.  The ancient core sat heavy and hot against his chest until he took it from his pocket and flung it into the corner.  It fell upon a cushion, undamaged, much to his disappointment. He wanted to see it smash against the wall, smash into tiny shards like the pieces rattling around in his breast. 

 

It was not fair.  Link was no more worthy than he to hold Princess Zelda close and kiss her lips.  What “comfort” could Link offer? The man could barely talk! He had the sword, but he was an empty clay vessel for the soul of the hero to occupy.  A handsome vacant shell, a weapon to be used against Ganon, little better than the divine beasts piloted by the other champions. Impressive, for sure, but nothing without a guiding hand.

 

Besides, Link was well on his way to breaking Lady Mipha’s heart.  Should Chanson stand idly by while Princess Zelda’s honor and happiness were at risk?  Princess Zelda, the descendent of the goddess, was not to be used and tossed away as soon as the next beauty caught his vapid eye.  If Chanson loved Princess Zelda, loved her truly, he could not let her sweet innocence be tainted by the wandering knight.

 

Such were the thoughts that occupied Chanson’s unsettled mind.  For most of the next two days, he seethed, locked in his rooms, taking no food, no company.  His lyre lay untouched. Not even music soothed his tortured soul.

 

When he finally emerged, gaunt and angry, he rebuffed several polite greetings before deciding to take the back halls and passageways to avoid as much contact as possible.  Chanson attended his duties, but when he was no longer needed, he disappeared to sulk alone. He could not bear to speak to anyone, miserable as we was. All he wanted was to see Princess Zelda, to protect her so that she did not fall further into Link’s grubby clutches. Chanson would not leave her in the hands of Link, hero of Hyrule and despoilers of princesses.  If only he could ever catch her alone, to warn her against throwing her heart away. She admired well-studied scholars and scientists. Who was a better master in the art of love than Chanson? He knew the stories of maidens despoiled, hearts broken. He must find a way to warn her and in the process, prove to her the worth of his love.

 

As luck would have it, Chanson had no opportunity to speak with the princess alone, but Chanson encountered the lout, himself, creeping around a back corridor near the guards’ chambers.  The gods were cursing him. The very person he did not want to see, he found himself face to face with in a dark, quiet corridor away from the bustle of the castle.

 

Link’s startled look told Chanson he was not expecting to see the poet, but rather than the fury Chanson expected from his rival, the fury that flooded Chanson’s soul upon laying eyes upon the appointed knight, he found Link’s face brightening when he realized who he had bumped into.

 

“Hello!”  Link said brightly.  “I didn’t expect to see you here.”  How relaxed and pleasant the knave looked.  He was positively effusive in his greeting. 

 

Chanson glowered at Link before he answered.  “No, I would think not.”

 

An awkward moment passed as they sized each other up, Link slightly confused with a growing suspicion blooming on his face.  

 

“Why  _ are  _ you taking the back way?”  the young knight challenged him.  The guards’ chambers housed Link’s own personal rooms.  By necessity, these rooms were near the princess’s own wing.  Link had reason to be here. The singer did not.

 

Chanson sighed in defeat.  Of course the man who was truly a threat to the princess would be the one to challenge him! 

 

“If you must know, I just wanted some time alone without…” he considered what to say.   _ Without being in danger of weeping aloud? _ No. It was the truth but it was none of Link’s business.  “Without people clamoring for a song or a verse,” he sighed again, this time heavily, as if the weight of his popularity were too much to bear.

 

Link studied the poet a moment and then nodded in commiseration.  “Yes,” he said. “Sometimes I like to be away from it all, too.” 

Oh, yes, Mr. Hero.  Savior of them all. He had to get away from being loved too much.  Chanson hated him.

 

Chanson considered smacking that sympathetic face with a glove, challenge him to a duel to restore the princess’s honor, but what would that achieve.  He was the hero of Hyrule. The goddess smiled upon Link, both Hylia and her avatar. Chanson could not win. What would he do? Hit him over the head with a flute?  Strangle him with a harp string? And then what. Allow the kingdom to fall to the Calamity, he supposed. 

 

“Yes, well,” Chanson said, “Please excuse me.  I must be about my composing.” He was a coward, but ill equipped to challenge Link.  He cursed himself silently.

 

“Actually…” Link said as the poet made to pass by, causing Chanson to halt in his tracks.  He kept his back to the knight so Link could not see him bare his teeth in a silent snarl. Would the fool just let him go?  How dense he was! “About that…”

 

Chanson turned to see Link looking at his feet, rubbing the back of his head.  The torchlight flickered, dimly lighting the rather embarrassed looking young man.

 

“About what?”  the poet asked.

 

“Well...you had offered a song...before.”  Link glanced up at Chanson, a little sheepish.

 

Chanson had done so.  He had offered Link a song to woo Mipha, to celebrate her.  Was the cad daring to ask for it now, now that he had tasted Princess Zelda’s sweet lips?  Did he think that just because he was a hero that he collect princess heart, draw notches on his belt for every noble lady who fell for his heroic mystique?  

 

“You want a song for the Lady Mipha?”  Chanson asked, barely containing the icy rage that flooded his veins.  The vulgar fellow. Stringing along those beautiful ladies.

 

“For Mi--, no.”  Link frowned. “I told you before...no.  Not for Mipha.”

 

Chanson stared at Link, realization dawning.  “Not for Mipha. Then, you want a song for --”

Zelda.  Princess Zelda.  He refused the song for Mipha, but wanted it for his princess.  Oh, this was worse than he thought. Music was a serious business, he wanted to give her a song, he must --   
  


Link waved a hand, “Forget it,”  he said shortly, interrupting Chanson’s thought.  The knight shook his head and turned on his heel. “Forget I mentioned it,” he tossed over his shoulder as he hurried away.

 

_ Oh, Hylia _ .  Link loved Princess Zelda, too.

 

* * *

 

 

Knowing that Link returned the princess’s affection, that she was no mere conquest made things a bit more complicated for the poet.  Again, Chanson had no right to interfere with another man’s love, if it were true love. He had no right to force the princess’s affections, but he had to let her know that she had a choice.  It was not just Link who loved her. If only he could find the princess and talk to her. 

 

Eventually, he wandered towards the lab, ever hopeful the king had relented or Princess Zelda disobeyed, and he would find her there.  But when he arrived, not even Purah or Robbie were in the lab. They were out running tests with the Guardians, Cherry told him with a smile.

 

“Robbie has nearly mastered them,” the maiden smiled, a smudge of grease on her nose.  She gestured with a wrench toward the great stretch of North Hyrule Plain. “He’s testing the ones to be used for the castle defence now.”  

 

Chanson peered through the window, and sure enough, there was Robbie and several other scientists in the distance, manipulating the mechanical giants, directing their movements.  It truly was a feat of genius. Even in his despair, was impressed.

 

“Robbie and Purah have done amazing work,” Chanson replied with a wan smile.  

 

Cherry grinned.  “It makes you proud to be a Sheikah, doesn’t it?”  

 

Chanson nodded, though his heart was too sad to swell with pride.  What good was it to be a Sheikah, forever the servants of the Hyrule royal family.  No chance for anything more.

 

“I don’t suppose you’ve seen the princess today?”  Chanson asked Cherry. “I’ve an ancient core to return to her.”  It wasn’t entirely a lie. He did have the core, in the the dusty corner of his bedroom.  He just did not have it with him

 

“Do you?”  Cherry exclaimed.  “Those are hard to come by!”

 

Chanson looked at he open, guileless face.  “Yes, indeed.” he said dryly, “the person who sold it to me drove a very hard bargain.”

 

“The princess will be happy to have that, I’m sure.”  Cherry told him. “She was here not long ago with Link.  They did not stay long, just wanted to find out about the latest development with the guardians.”  She scratched her head with the wrench. “I think they were heading back to her study.”

 

Chanson smiled, a real smile of gratitude.  “Thank you, Cherry. You are the very milk of kindness.”

 

Cherry scrunched up her face. “Am I..well.”  She looked baffled. “Thanks, I guess?”

 

Chanson waved goodbye without a backward glance.  He was halfway out the door before she had finished the thought.  He did not know what he would say or do when he saw the princess. Really, he had no reason to speak to her, but reason had left him.  He had to declare his love to her before she gave her heart away entirely to Link.

 

As Chanson hurried back across the grassy plain, toward the west side of the castle where Princess Zelda’s room and study were located, he had a momentary, traitorous thought:  no wonder King Rhoam did not want Princess Zelda spending so much time in the lab. It was quite a trek from the castle, and Zelda avoided riding her spirited stallion most of the time.  The walk alone cut into time for her duties as priestess and princess, though it was nice -- sunshine, fresh air, and little patches of blue blossoms dotting the grass. Still, there was so much to be done and so little time to do it in, if the portents were true.  Like it or not, Princess Zelda had a duty to fulfill as priestess of Hylia and champion of her people

 

Chanson’s conscience was pricked by this disloyalty, but he soothed himself with the thought that it really was not her fault.  If Link was telling her that it was okay to indulge in her studies, well, then, he was was the one to blame. The guardians and divine beasts were important, no doubt about it, but Princess Zelda was their only hope in sealing Ganon.  The technology alone, as amazing as it was, could not fulfill her role. As Chanson drew closer to the castle, he could hear the distant sound of grinding gears and the ominous sound of the guardians’ laser beams. The high pitch squeal made unpleasant shivers run down his back.  He was glad the machines were on their side. 

 

Chanson had just crossed the moat and was coming up to the gate on the west side of the castle when he heard a soft giggle and saw a flash of blue.  Princess Zelda and Link were running toward the edge of the moat, her blue gown trailing in the high grass. Link jogged along only a step or two behind.  They were watching Robbie’s experiments from a safe distance, apparently. 

 

The princess was animated, her face happy.  She pointed toward the guardian and pulled out her notebook to show something to Link.  The knight bent his head close to her golden one to read the page. Chanson could not hear her words, but her tone was bright, like musical notes half lost in the wind.   He wanted to hear more, but he hesitated to go closer, lest he gave himself away. 

 

Link nodded firmly at whatever the princess told him, and she closed her research journal with a happy sigh.  Link looked at her and brought one arm up around her shoulders, pulling her close with such casual, practiced affection.  It was not the gesture of a man timid in love. Link’s arm draped over the princess with the assurance of one who knew he would not be refused.

 

The princess snuggled into his side and lifted her face to the knight who bent to press a gentle kiss first on one cheek and then the next before gently nuzzling her nose with his own.  She giggled and pressed a quick kiss to his smiling mouth. Link brought a hand up to the princess’s face and gave her a more lingering kiss in return.

 

It was the very picture of young love, a scene to inspire a romantic verse.  But the felt hot, black malice fill his veins, his eyes veiled in a red mist of rage.  

 

Innocent!  Chanson’s better self tried to reason with the dark anger.  An innocent kiss or two caused no harm. He was very fond of kissing, had kissed a good number of girls without shame or regret.  He had done more than kiss a couple, but he was not a knight with sworn vows. He was not daring to lay his hands on the mortal representation of Hylia herself, here in the braod daylight.  Link had pulled the princess closer and she was lightly, with such tentative fingers, running her hands up and down his back. She tilted her face, to catch her breath, and Link buried his face into her neck, making her gasp. 

 

In the midst of his rage, Chanson found himself wondering how the skin of her neck would taste under his tongue. Would she be salt or sweet?  Would she smell of parchment and metal or flowers and incense or a combination of them all? Chanson clenched his fist convulsively. He could not bear it.  He would not bear it. 

 

Turning, he fled the scene and ran for the castle, ran for the Sanctum where he knew he would find King Rhoam.

 

* * *

 

 

In the end, he shocked himself with how easily he manipulated the king.  Upon being given an audience with the king (it helped being friends with Impa), he asked solicitously about the princess’s birthday, telling him of the music planned for the celebration which would occur after she returned from Mount Lanayru.  

 

He wondered aloud, oh so innocently, whether Princess Zelda would like a new research journal since she was certain to fill up her old with the new experiments being done on the guardians.

 

“Guardians!” King Rhoam interrupted the prattling singer.  He had been gracious up to a point, but the poet was wasting his time.  Zelda’s birthday plans were to be sedate unless she returned from Mount Lanayru with her powers,  there would be little celebration. Rhoan had too many important plans for his kingdom to oversee and could not continue to listen to the inane meanderings of the court poet.

 

“Oh, yes, your majesty.”  Chanson said, eyes cast down respectfully.  “The princess and Link were overseeing the guardian experiments conducted by Dr. Robbie today.”

 

“Were they,” the king’s voice was cold, and Chanson looked up nervously.  King Rhoam’s face was dark with anger. 

 

“Dr. Robbie is working on the Guardians on the north plain, is he not?” The king asked in the same cold tone.

 

“I-I believe so, sire,” Chanson stammered.  The King was angry, no doubt about it, but very calm.  It was terrifying.

 

“Then, I know exactly where she will be.”  The King arose from his throne, his guards hurrying in his wake.

 

Chanson stood there with a sinking feeling that he had just inadvertently committed a great sin against the goddess.   With a gnawing regret, Chanson begun to realize that his love was not as pure as he thought it was. Grief over not having his love returned was one thing.  Striking out in petty revenge had no place in the romance he thought he was enacting within the walls of Hyrule Castle. But there he was all the same. A villain when he had thought himself the...well, not the hero, surely...but at least the protagonist in this tale of love. 

 

 

He did not see it happen, but he heard about it later.  The royal guards discussed it among themselves. King Rhoam’s words to his daughter had shocked them.   _ Heir to a throne of nothing _ .  It’s not that no one had heard these words said before, but to have her own father say them to her, in front of his guard and hers.  It was shameful.

 

Princess Zelda was said to have remained strong.  She did not weep, at least not that anyone saw, but her chambermaids were summarily dismissed and even Link was sent away from her rooms.  The one bright spot for Chanson as he became all too aware of the cruelty he had done to his beloved. His report to the king was not an action born of noble feeing.  It was petty revenge born from his own disappointment.

 

The next day, the princess began a series of rituals to purify herself for a trip to the Spring of Power. 

  
  
  
  
  


* * *

 

 

Of course the trip took days.  Days which Chanson spent agonizing.  Agonizing overy his own role in causing the princess pain.  Agonizing over the fact that the princess was alone, with Link, in the wild. His imagination tortured him with flashes of what could happen between them, of what had already happened.

 

When Princess Zelda and Link returned from the Spring of Power, they arrived just a little later than expected, faces solemn but cheeks flushed and eyes bright.  The princess’s lips were swollen, as if she had been biting them -- a nervous habit perhaps? Surely, kneeling before the goddess, beseeching her for power caused great anxiety.  Or perhaps they were chapped from the wind as she rode her noble white steed across Hyrule field. Chanson would like to believe one of these innocent explanations was the truth of those lips, except for the fact that Link’s own lips looked considerably fuller than usual.  

 

To be reduced to staring at another man’s mouth!  For Hylia’s sake...he should be focused on objects of refinement and beauty, like the noble architecture of the castle, the pleasing line of a lady’s glove, the poetry of the ancient verses...not the chapped, swollen lips of a grubby knight.  But it wasn’t just the lips or the mussed hair falling from its ponytail. It was the glow in his eyes when they lingered on Princess Zelda, a soft, barely discernible smile softening his usually stoic face. Compared to his usual lack of expression, the boy was practically beaming when he gazed upon his princess.  

 

He accepted that he had wronged her, but how much more could he suffer in their presence?  Link had held her, kissed her lips. This Chanson has seen with his own eyes. Was there more?  It was a torment that he could not be sure. 

 

Chanson did not want to believe what his eyes told him, but his nose, oh, the nose knows.  That was the punch in the gut. Chanson was with Impa, halfheartedly listening to the plans for her upcoming wedding, when Link stopped by to let the king’s advisor know they had returned.   As usual, the scent of grass and sunshine clung to the knight, but under that, ever so faint, was a sweetish fragrance... musk or jasmine or honey. It was difficult to place, but it put Chanson in mind of a fateful evening in late spring with Laura under the plum trees.  A wild, heady perfume, an unguent of desire had been on the air that night, and such a fragrance, ever so faint, clung to the appointed knight.

 

But that would mean...What could it mean?  To think such thoughts of the princess felt like treason.  His lady was a priestess of Hylia. Link, lout that he was, had sworn the knight’s vows of loyalty, honor and purity.  Despite the gentle kisses he had seen them exchange, it was beyond belief that they had been anything else but chaste in their affection.  However, a sharp pain in his chest told him that his heart understood very well what his brain refused to acknowledge. 

 

Later, at supper, the poet received further proof.  Impa, considerate of the fact that the princess might be sensitive in reporting yet another failure to manifest her powers, arranged for a more intimate meal in her own chambers, inviting those the princess liked best to welcome Princess Zelda back home.  The princess sat at table with the appointed knight and a few of her close advisors and research associates, Impa, Purah and Robbie among them. It was a rare occasion for her to have such an informal meal with those she trusted most. Chanson sat near the head of the table, next to Purah, having been invited to dine with the princess’s friends and his fellow Sheikah.  

 

To have such an opportunity to freely converse with Purah and Robbie about the ancient technology did not come often, and Impa was a trusted advisor to the royal family.  Princess Zelda never felt the need to hold her tongue about her field research and horticultural studies in front of her. However, this evening, she appeared distracted, hardly hearing Purah’s excited discussion of a new rune that she had enabled upon the Sheikah slate while the princess was away -- something to do with ice, it would seem. 

 

“Ice blocks, you say?” Princess Zelda commented politely, absentmindedly stirring her soup.  Her eyes kept roving from Purah to Link, and she seemed to have trouble pulling her eyes away from him, a small smile on her lips.  

 

“Oh yes, and the ability to smash them as well,” Purah explained, excitement lighting up her features. “CRACK!” 

 

She made an expansive gesture with her hands and knocked a basket of bread off the table.  Without missing a breath, she launched into a discussion of temperature, pressure, and a lot of scientific explanation that normally would have the princess eagerly attentive, journal out, taking notes, but not this evening.  Princess Zelda did not even notice the bread rolling across the floor. She smiled and nodded at Purah and let her eyes drift back toward her knight who sat across from her.

 

Link, for his part, remained quiet as ever, speaking only when Robbie or Impa asked him a direct question.  He did register some concern when he saw the bread hit the floor but was reassured when a fresh basket was placed on the table by a serving girl.  He ate steadily and with obvious enjoyment, but his eyes would flicker from his plate to the princess’s face far more often than usual. 

 

Link’s table manners were fine enough for a knight of the Royal Guard, someone who might be expected to dine with the king on occasion, but this was a more informal occasion. As the meal wore on, Link relaxed, just the tiniest bit.  Link smiled at Robbie’s enthusiastic imitation of a Guardian focusing its laser, and the knight playfully held up a small silver tray in an imitation of his own brave act of taking on a malfunctioning Guardian with only a pot lid. This pantomime drew hearty laughter from all around the table, with even Princess Zelda’s laugh ringing out clear and strong.  Chanson’s heart beat faster to hear it. The beauty of her laughter was a rare sound around the castle. How cruel that it was the knight who inspired it. Chanson suffered in silence, his guilt over his role in the princess’s chastisement still fresh in his mind.

 

Finally, the last course of honeyed apples and cream was served.  Chanson’s sweet torture would be at an end soon. The Princess and Link would likely retire early so she could arise with the dawn for her daily prayers.  The advisor and the scientists likewise had early duties. He was almost free when the singer saw Link dip two fingers into his silver dessert dish to gather the final drops of honey and cream from his bowl.  Locking eyes with the princess who sat opposite from him, Link’s fingers disappeared into his mouth.

 

Few people noticed this lapse in manners, for almost as soon as Link brought his hand to his lips, the princess dropped her fork with a clatter that cut through all conversation.  The poor girl flushed a mortified shade of red and muttered “excuse me” and “thank you” to the serving girl who picked up the dropped cutlery. 

 

Link ducked his head, his eyes back on his plate, but Chanson saw him peeking through his shaggy hair at the princess, a triumphant gleam in those blue eyes.  The princess, her cheeks still flaming, gave her appointed knight a lofty glance that had him sitting up straight within an instant. Unfortunately, the quelling nature of the look was quite ruined by the smile that she could not keep from quirking the corner of her mouth.  

 

Greedy fellow!  Everyone knew he could not keep his fingers out of the honey pot at table, but to despoil--  to even suggest!! -- how dare he! Him and his sticky fingers. Such was his anger, he struggled to maintain a pleasant expression.   Impa and Robbie looked at him curiously. Purah was too busy stacking sugar cubes to explain the Cryonis rune to notice, and Link and Zelda were too busy looking at each other. 


	12. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for the awesome comments on the last chapter!

Chanson had driven her to his arms.  In his jealous attempt to pull them apart, he had brought them closer together.  It was obvious something had occured between them at the Spring of Power. Well, obvious to anyone well studied in the art of love, obvious to anyone who actually paid any attention to how Princess Zelda was feeling -- and he realized with resentment on her part that there were very few who cared to see her as anything more than a useless weapon against the enemy.  Even her own father...such an unfeeling guise he took on with his daughter. And if Chanson were honest with himself, and he did not want to be, he may have been guilty of ignoring Princess Zelda’s true feelings, as well. 

The truth was that he tried to snatch time with the princess against her will.  He had broken one of the cardinal rules of love. A lover must take nothing from his beloved that is not freely given, be that a kiss, a sweet word or even just the opportunity to bask in the light of her presence.  The gods of love had dealt him a harsh reprimand for daring to flaunt this rule. His beloved, she of the golden hair, now had eyes...and lips...and who knew what else...only for her appointed knight.

 

For several nights he had tossed in his bed, unwanted images playing out in his head.  Behind his tired eyes, he could see Princess Zelda’s satisfied smiles and heavy lidded eyes.  He remembered how easily she melted into her appointed knight’s arms when he bent to kiss her near the castle moat.  Chanson recalled with burning anger and shame the sight of Link sucking honey and cream from his fingertips. Those were the images he had actually seen with his own eyes.  Even worse were the sights his imagination conjured up to torture him further. Panting sighs and rough hands on white skin under the moonlight. It was maddening.

 

So, he decided that rather than spend yet another night not able to sleep, he arose from his bed and threw on his old tunic.  He needed some air.

 

He wandered outside the strong castle walls and found himself in the small open courtyard where the princess often went to pray, the place where he first played for her during her morning devotions.  There by the altar of the goddess he hoped he might find some peace from the carnal nightmares his brain insisted upon playing for him, and if not, he had his lyre with him. Perhaps he would find some inspiration in the night.  The princess’s birthday was only two days away, but he had yet to find a way to give her the song, to make his confession of love. He wondered if he should even bother.

 

Hylia’s statue stared down at him, her smile as bland and motherly as ever, offerings of flowers and fruit heaped about her feet.  He stared into the stone face, trying to reconcile the passion that rent him asunder with that beatific countenance. Chanson had adored Princess Zelda as the goddess she was, but he had forgotten...well, ignored...that she was no granite figure to blindly and passively accept offerings of flowers and songs, an object onto which he may project his passion and and so bask in the glory of his own love.  He winced at the thought of how  _ masturbatory _ such an expression of love now appeared to be. 

 

Princess Zelda was the descendant of Hylia, but she was also a mortal girl with needs both emotional and physical, a mortal girl born because Hylia herself chose to become mortal and share her emotional and physical nature with an ancient hero.  It was an uncomfortable duality, and Chanson, for the life of him, did not know how to settle this in his own mind and heart. He began to suspect as he looked into Hylia’s face for guidance that it was not his problem to settle, and that hurt, hurt his pride maybe even more than it hurt his heart.  

 

He had no problem with not being a hero. The poet had no such ambitions.  However, Chanson always did think of himself as a lover, a very model for other lovers to emulate.  Not in the way other boorish fellows thought of themselves as lovers, though he was not unfamiliar to the charms of such conquest.  No, there was an art to love, rules to it. He followed those rules faithfully as a dedicated acolyte, and for the first time in his life, his art had failed him.  It failed him when he most longed for success.

 

While Chanson’s art had failed him, an artless knight, tongue-tied and common, swept in and conquered the princess’s heart with no words, no songs.  What was it that brought him the maiden’s love when Chanson had only her kindness? A casual word or friendly smile were all she had to give the lovelorn poet. It would have been enough for Chanson, it truly would, if only he was not certain that she was capable of sharing so much more with a lowborn fellow like Link.  Why not Chanson?

 

Was it the soul connection, then?  Chanson stared up at Hylia’s statue.  The princess and her knight were soul-bound, as all the Princess Zeldas and heroes who had come before had been.  With such a spiritual union, was it useless for any other man to love a daughter of Hylia?

 

But that could not be right.  In the ancient lore, very few of the knights and their Zeldas fell in love, or at least so the stories indicated.  There was the first Zelda and her reincarnated lover, for certain, but the others? Lost to history mainly, but if the royal family tree was anything to go by, there were many Zeldas who did not marry the hero.  They did their duty as demanded by the gods, and then they moved on, living their lives. Princess Zelda’s own mother had no hero, nor did her grandmother before her. Did the imminent return of Calamity Ganon strengthen their bond?  Were they nothing more than puppets to be dandled by Hylia, to play out a drama according to her whim? Would Chanson’s princess ever be free to make her own choice? And if so, how could he make sure she would choose him?

 

Hylia smiled down on him.  Silent and unmoving.

 

Chanson glared up at that kindly face and plucked a sour note on his lyre.  It rang out through the courtyard, echoing into the starry sky.

 

“Oh!” came a startled cry behind him.

 

Chanson wheeled around to find the object of his musings, Princess Zelda herself, standing behind him, one hand half raised to her throat in a startled gesture.  He noted she wore her traveling clothes but her hair was loose and unbound by braids or coronet. The moonlight fell upon her brow, putting stars in her emerald eyes.  

 

He caught his breath at the sight of her.

 

“Excuse me,” she said, “I did not realize anyone was here.”  She turned to go.

 

“No!” Chanson cried out, “Please, wait!”  His voice was loud in the still night, and Zelda glanced about nervously, but she came closer, her steps silent on the cobblestones. She  _ was _ stealthy. 

The poet swallowed hard and took a deep breath, willing himself to remain calm, even though he felt as if every cell had been lit by fire.  This was answered prayer! Alone, in the night with his princess. He could not have asked for a better scenario in which to confess his love.  He breathed a silent thank you under his breath to the goddess.

 

“What did you say?” the princess asked him, as she drew near.  She spoke quietly, as if she were unwilling to attract attention. It was too good to be true.

 

“Nothing, my princess,” Chanson said quickly, “I just--I’m so glad to see you here.  I mean, why are you here so late?” His smooth words had left him. He sounded like a babbling fool, but it did not matter.  She stood before him, smiling gently in the moonlight.

 

“Oh, well --, “ he could just make out the hint of a blush on her cheeks.  “I was doing some...um...field research.” She lifted a bouquet of flowers he had not realized she had been holding.  “Some of the herbs and flowers in Hyrule field are best found by night. I won’t have much time for such research in the next few days, not with my trip to Mt. Lanayru.” 

 

“You see these,” she held out a fragrant blossom to him.  The romance of it almost made him swoon. He took the offered flower, thrilling when her fingertips brushed his own.  “This is blue nightshade. It emits a glow at night, making it easier to spot. It is also most potent when harvested by moonlight.”  

 

“Potent?” he asked her dumbly.  He did not know what he was saying.  He just wanted to keep her talking, to hear the music of her voice.  He brushed the silken petals with one fingertip and wondered if her skin were as soft.

 

“Yes, for certain potions, like…” The princess paused as if she were fearful of revealing a secret.  “Well, they are in what I would call the “sneaky” category of plants and herbs. They are particularly good when brewing stealth potions.”  She clutched her bundle of flowers to her breast and smiled a strange, secret smile.

 

“Stealth, my lady?”  Chanson thought that the princess had given up sneaking off by herself.  “Were you in the fields all alone?”

 

“Oh, no, of course not!” The princess defended herself.  “Link was with me.” There was that secret smile again. Chanson looked more closely and saw the top button of her blouse was undone.

 

Of course Link had been with her.  The electricity that ran through his veins when the princess first appeared left him, and the night air was suddenly cold on his skin.  

 

“Where is your knight now, my lady?” Chanson asked, adopting a formal tone to hide his distress.  “Surely he did not leave you to return to your chambers alone?”

 

“Link would never leave me,” the princess Zelda said firmly but without rancor.  “He escorted me safely to my room, but I could not sleep.” She held up the flowers again.  “I thought to make a small offering in gratitude for...well, in gratitude for some very productive research.”

 

Chanson kept his face neutral though he felt his pulse pounding in his head.  He grieved to think what her research had uncovered.

 

“It is good to pay honor to Hylia, of course.”  He said, gesturing to his lyre.

 

“Is that why you are here?” she asked, “I’m glad of it.  We can offer our thanks together...that is, if you have something to be thankful for?”  

 

“I am thankful to have this time with you, my lady.”  Suave. Keep it suave and smooth. Whatever she had been up to with Link, Hylia had placed her in his path now.  He had to make the most of this time.

 

The princess laughed quietly.  “I hope you have more to be thankful for than that!”

 

“You do yourself a disservice, lady,” he told her, his voice deep.

 

“Well,”  she blinked at him, “maybe so, but all the same, I think you should have something else to thank Hylia for.”

 

“There is one thing I am always thankful for, my princess.”  That was the stuff! She had a rendezvous with an uncultured boy, let her know how a sophisticated lover wooed a lady.

 

“And what is that?”  she was looking at him now, truly looking at him with those deep green eyes, bright in the moonlight.

 

“Love,” he breathed. Oh, that was smooth.  He let just a hint of silk into his voice.

 

“I’m sorry, what?” she looked confused.

 

“I am thankful for love, that is, for being in love.” Chanson stepped closer but the princess appeared preoccupied moved away to pace, in front of the statue.

 

“Are you in love?” she asked in a distracted manner, looking up from her nervous pacing.  “That is very nice for you.”

 

“Oh, yes, my lady.”  Chanson smiled. She was shy!  He must be patient with her. The princess was still but a youth, naive...

 

“But how do you know?” She stopped in front of the poet looking at him quite intently.  She brought a hand to her lips and began to worry her thumbnail with her teeth. “What are the signs?”

 

“Oh, my princess, the heart beats faster in the presence of one’s beloved, and one may grow faint and pale in her presence.”  He raised a hand to his heart. “Haven’t you noticed?” he asked boldly.

 

“Noticed?”  the princess threw a startled, wide-eyed look at him.  “I don’t know...” she muttered, her tone speculative and almost to herself.  She looked worried. “But this is nonsense, Chanson. This sounds like symptoms of fever and ague more than love.”

 

“Oh, Princess, no.  There is more to it than that.  The jealousy. The bitter resentment that fills the soul when one’s beloved shows favor to another overwhelms the lover.”  Chanson heaved a romantic sigh. It was worth all the pain to finally --  _ finally! _ \-- have this sweet moment of confession with his lady.

 

“That sounds most unpleasant, though I admit, I have felt stabs of jealousy, I do not think love had anything to do with it.”  She reflected a moment. “Yes.” She nodded firmly. “I am sure those feelings of resentment had nothing to do with love whatsoever.”  She nodded again as if to convince herself if not him.

 

“No, princess, forgive me for saying so, but you are wrong!”  Chanson reached out a pleading hand to her. Princess Zelda looked surprised at this sudden refutation, but she allowed him to continue.  “Though love cause pain, the sweet pleasures of love are beyond compare. A lover’s gentle kiss or…” he swallowed hard, fearful of being a rogue, but the words tumbled out of his mouth too quickly for him to modulate them.  “Or a tender caress invokes the most divine...satisfaction.” His heart was in his throat, so afraid he would offend his lady’s tender sensibilities. 

 

“Oh,” she gave an exasperated sigh.  “What does love have to do with  _ that _ ?”

 

Chanson was surprised to find that Princess Zelda  was not offended at the suggestion of physical intimacy.  She was offended that such acts could define love. 

 

Chanson was aghast.  “Everything, my lady!  Everything!”

 

“Hmm.”  She nibbled her thumb again.  “As with most things of that nature, I would say it is a mere biological impulse.  It’s physical. Only logical…” her voice trailed off and she looked up at the statue of Hylia.  Chanson stared at her, too dumbfounded to speak. His princess was a scientist at heart, but this jaded response was too awful for him to accept.

 

“I apologize, court poet,” she said with a wry smile, noting his dismay, “but I’m afraid that your concept of love is quite alien to me.  After all, these feelings can be produced by brewing special herbal concoctions. The Gerudo has a particular use for a radish…” 

 

Chanson blinked, considering what he knew about their radishes.  He wondered briefly what exactly Princess Zelda knew about those radishes.  This was  _ not _ how he envisioned his confession of love to his lady.  He realized she was still speaking and tried to focus on her words.

 

“...So if eating bowl of hearty radish soup can make one’s pulse react, then I’m sorry, that I must cast doubt upon this almost...supernatural notion of love.”  The princess gave him a conciliatory smile. “I’m afraid we must agree to disagree.”

 

“Princess, I--” he cast about lamely, trying to find some response.  “I don’t have the words to convince you.” He looked down and realized he still held his lyre.  “May-- that is -- may I try to convince you with a song?” He glanced at the statue of Hylia and beseeched her silently.  May his music not fail him now. He would play her song and she would finally understand.

 

Princess Zelda squinted at him, throwing him an odd glance.  “A song -- now?” She glanced around the darkened courtyard. “It is the middle of the night.”

 

“The sweetest music is reserved for the night, my princess,” he gave her a daring smile.  “May it serve as a hymn of gratitude to you and to Hylia, to thank you for allowing me to serve you.”  He plucked a few notes, and looked at the princess with expectant eagerness. His moment had come.

 

“I have composed this for you, personally,”  he said. Her chin lifted and she gave him a searching look, realization beginning to dawn.  “Well, I say composed. I rearranged. It is an ancient lullaby of sorts -- a Sheikah melody sung for the princesses of Hyrule.  I thought it would be an appropriate gift for me to give you on your upcoming birthday.”

 

Princess Zelda was now staring at him quite keenly.

 

“May I?” he asked, and she nodded, slowly.

 

And so he played for his beloved princess.  There in the moonlight, next to the statue of the goddess, he played her lullaby, letting her know he adored her with every note.  He closed his eyes, feeling as if the music had taken control, were playing him rather than other way around. It was a delicious sensation, giving himself over to the passion of his music, allowing himself to be the instrument of the muses and the goddess.  Where the melody began and Chanson ended, he could not say.

 

When the last note had sounded and faded away, he opened his eyes to find Princess Zelda still standing stiff and still in the same spot.  Unshed tears stood in her green eyes. She lifted a hand to her heart when she saw he was looking at her.

 

“Princess?” he asked, concern in his voice.  He had not intended to make her cry. “Are you--”

 

“Thank you,” she interrupted him in a small voice.  “I--I confess that I have not been much moved by music and verse...not like Link.”  

 

The blissful haze of music still infused his soul, but he still winced to hear her speak his rival’s name.  What had Link to do with music? Chanson was the singer, he was the servant of Hylia through his song. Why must Link always stand between them?  

 

The princess took a small step toward Chanson, but stopped short of being close enough to touch.  His pulse began to thump in his neck. Physical, she said. Only logical. Oh, she was wrong. There was no logic in this.  Only magic.

 

“I have found your research into the ancient legends dovetails well with my own, but the songs did not speak to my soul.”  She admitted. He knew that. He supposed he had always realized that while the princess was intellectually engaged with the lyrics to the songs, the music meant little to her.  It had never seemed to matter before now.

 

“I doubt Link has told you, though I don’t think he would mind me revealing this to you, but your music has deeply affected my appointed knight.”  She took on a fond, faraway expression that hurt Chanson to see.

 

She smiled to herself.  “Link,” she said.

 

She said his name with a caress in her voice that hurt Chanson more than he would have thought.  “He remembers when he hears the ancient songs, your songs. Remembers things he has never done -- battles with flame-haired brutes.  Sailing the sea aboard a pirate ship. The moon and masks --” Princess Zelda broke off and glanced at Chanson. “The memories do not always make sense, but he knows he heard the songs in another life, as another hero.”

 

She sighed and turned to face the statue of Hylia.

 

“It is both frightening and encouraging.  To hear and to know without a doubt that he has the soul of the hero, that he is capable of fulfilling his divine duty.”  The princess almost seemed to be addressing Hylia, not him, but then she turned around to face the poet, a look of profound sadness on her face.

 

“Until now, I did not understand him.  Not entirely.” The tears stood in her eyes, threatening to come down. He wanted to reach out, to brush them from her cheeks and comfort her in his arms, but the genial smile of Hylia bearing down on him kept him frozen. “I cannot say that I have had the same kind of memory awakened within me this night,” Princess Zelda continued, “but your song has touched my heart deeply.”

 

Chanson caught his breath.  It was all he ever wanted, to unlock her heart, to make her feel the same depth of emotion.

 

“It’s funny,” she laughed a watery laugh.  “I hear your song, and I remember by mother.”  The hand over her heart clenched into a fist. “I was so young when she died, but in that melody, I can remember the loving hands that rocked me and a voice that spoke to me with such gentleness.  Would it be better if these were the memories of another princess or Hylia, herself? Would it make me any more ready for what awaits me on Mt. Lanayru?”

 

“My princess,” Chanson spoke to her gently.  “I wish my music could awaken you -- I mean,” he stumbled over his words, all too aware of how he could be misunderstood, “I had hoped somehow that my music would help you awaken some aspect of you, maybe your power.  I don’t know. Perhaps that was arrogant of me, but I truly did want to help.” It was true, though he had his own selfish reasons for it.

 

Princess Zelda unclenched her fist, and reaching out to him laid a soft hand on his shoulder, standing almost face to face.  Almost close enough to kiss. He kept his hands by his side, Hylia’s gaze upon him. “But you have helped me. To remember my mother, now when I need her most, is more than enough.  You could have given me no better gift for my birthday.” She looked into his eyes and smiled, and giving him a gentle pat, started to withdraw her hand.

 

He reached up to hold her hand to his shoulder, not willing to let her go, not yet.  He tilted his head down, staring deep into those beautiful eyes. He  _ wanted _ ...every part of him ached with want of her -- her love, her lips.  He wanted it all.

 

“My lady, I -- “ he choked on his word, “I wanted to tell you that I --”

 

She waited, her hand on his shoulder, his hand covering hers.  He wanted to stay like that, to never move, but it was late and she had to prepare for her impending journey to Mt. Lanayru, to try to save them all. 

 

Should he tell her now?  Would his love encourage her as she dedicated herself to the holiest of springs?  Or would it distract her from his task? Did he dare take the risk?

 

“Tell me what, Chanson?” the princess asked, prompting him to speak.  Her eyes were kind, but there was no answering spark. He knew that she knew, but there was nothing in her touch or her gaze that indicated that she felt the same.

 

He let go over her hand.  He could not force her to touch him.  It was uncouth.

 

“I -- just want you to know, that whatever you need,” he swallowed hard, “whatever service I can render to you, I am your ever faithful servant.”

 

She smiled again and patted his shoulder before withdrawing her hand.  He felt the lack immediately and mourned it.    
  


“Thank you,” her mouth twisted into a wry smile.  “There are few, I think, who are so loyal, but I am grateful for you.”  

 

She brushed a hand quickly over her eyes.  “I wonder what Link would remember if he heard this song.”  The princess looked up at him hopefully. “You will play it for him, won’t you? Before we leave for Lanayru?”

 

Chanson hesitated.  “I -- that is, I will do as you command, princess, but it is your gift --”

 

“I will gladly share my gift with Link,” the princess said, a slow, secret smile curving her lips and darkening her eyes.  “He has given so much to me already. I would like to think that I could return some small measure back to him. You understand, don’t you?”

 

The look she gave the poet was direct.  He understood perfectly. Her heart had been decided.

 


	13. Chapter 13

Chanson spent the rest of the night and most of the next day trying to convince himself that he had misread Princess Zelda’s final words to him in the moonlit courtyard.  The poet reasoned that he had not actually said the words “I love you,” to Princess Zelda. It was within the realm of possibility that she did not know what he intended to say when he found himself choked by his confession.  Unfortunately, he always came round to the fact that even after he gave the princess her song, even after he attempted to share with her all that was in his heart, her hand gripped by his own, her final words were still of Link.

 

So, when this line of delusional reasoning failed him, Chanson tried to find inspiration in stories about other lovers who had been denied.  To love purely and completely did not require reciprocation. The joy of being a lover lay in the pursuit, not the conquest, but knowing that he had lost out to a low-born knight still stung bitterly.  Those singers who sang of unrequited love must never have experienced the pain themselves. He could not believe such beautiful music could arise from such despair. Those fools must have convinced themselves -- wrongly -- that they were in love with those beautiful ladies who denied their plights.

 

Of course, not even Princess Zelda was any too sure that she was in love.  Unfortunately, even if she did not realize, the signs were all there. Princess Zelda was in love, and not with Chanson.  Whether she realized it or not, all conversation with her led to Link, or at least it had for some time now. Her cheeks flushed when the knight drew near and her eyes followed him if he ever moved from her side.  

 

Then, there was the evidence of their more intimate connection.  No matter what Princess Zelda claimed to the contrary, Chanson did not believe she would kiss or caress a young man for whom she did not care deeply.  If she were only interested in biology, there were plenty of other young men who would have happily offered themselves up to her experimentation -- Chanson certainly made himself available, and even though the castle folk were critical of the princess’s inability to access her sealing power, they quite admired her beauty.  If she were seeking a lab partner only, there would have been no shortage of applicants.

 

Of course, Link was conveniently close to her and was very good at taking orders, but from what Chanson had seen, the princess was not directing the knight to do anything he did not want to do of his own free will.  Chanson saw in Link a young man just as besotted as the princess, his blue eyes staring, always staring, anticipating her next move. Sometime the knight’s fingers would twitch as Princess Zelda drew near, as if he were unconsciously longing to reach for her, his hands reacting to the nearness of her, knowing he had been allowed to touch before and wanting to do so again.  

 

The day before Princess Zelda’s birthday brought visitors, the four champions of the Divine Beasts.  They would journey to the foot of Mt. Lanayru on her birthday to await her descent and give her either congratulations or commiseration upon her return.  It had been Urbosa’s idea, but not all the champions were happy about it. 

 

“I’m really not inclined to join the others tomorrow, Chanson,” Revali said with a sigh. “ Such a long journey and for what?”  The Rito warrior shook his head. They were outside, enjoying the last rays of the evening sun before adjourning to the dining hall.

 

Chanson felt dull and sad, and he shrugged his shoulders. What was the point of anything, really?  The lady Mipha stood with them and shot him a concerned glance.

 

“It’s to celebrate the princesses birthday, isn’t it?  To give her our support,” Mipha reminded the Rito champion and the singer.  Chanson gazed out over the parapet, seeing Mt. Lanayru loom in the distance.  Link and Zelda were at this very moment making the final preparations for their journey.  They would leave this evening, alone, and journey through the night so that she could begin her prayers as dawn broke over the summit.  

 

Chanson took some comfort in the fact that Mt. Lanayru was said to bitterly cold, so the princess would be unlikely to linger in her wet, transparent gown, giving Link’s greedy eyes a feast of smooth skin and round curves.  He swallowed hard and tried not to think of her standing near a hasty fire, shedding her gown as goose pimples raised on her fine skin. He tried not to think of Link at her side with a warm cloak, helping her dry off and dress in dry clothing.  Would the knight kiss her in such a circumstance, trail cold fingers over icy flesh in the hopes of stirring greater warmth? The image in his mind’s eye brought a rush of blood to his groin and a sliver of ice to his heart -- a most uncomfortable combination.

 

Chanson glanced guiltily at the Lady Mipha, hoping that her empathetic soul would not be able to guess his thoughts.  He wondered if such images ever crossed her own mind. Such a dear, innocent maiden, she was. He doubted Lady Mipha would ever be capable of such vulgar imaginings despite her longing for the Hylian Champion, for it was not just the princess that Mipha wished to support on the morrow, Chanson knew that for a certain.  The poet wondered how supportive the Zora princess would be if it were only the Princess Zelda journeying to Mt. Lanayru alone. Would Lady Mipha be so eager to undertake the journey to show her support? For Princess Zelda’s sake, Chanson hoped so, but he was not certain. 

 

Lady Mipha was a kind and loving soul, but she had kept Princess Zelda at a distance or Princess Zelda remained distant from her.  Who was to say? What Chanson did know for certain was these two princesses, of an age, with much in common were very polite colleagues, but there was not the warmth of friendship he might have expected to exist between them.  Chanson could guess the reason. Long before Princess Zelda began to gaze at her knight with love in her eyes, Lady Mipha had been jealous of the time Link spent in the Hylian court as a royal guard and later as Princess Zelda’s appointed knight.  Chanson could not find fault. Jealousy was a natural and healthy reaction to love, all the songs said so, and Lady Mipha’s form of jealousy was so gentle as to almost go unnoticed. Almost.

 

It was too bad because Princess Zelda could have used a friend closer to her own age, someone with similar weighty responsibilities to her kingdom.  Lady Mipha had her own power that she used to help her people, and Princess Zelda was heir to the sealing power meant to save the entire realm. Surely, they could have had a very sympathetic friendship.  All Chanson saw, however, was gentle and polite formality. No resentment, but there should have been more. It really was all Link’s fault, Chanson thought indignantly. The loutish barrier between these two fine ladies.  Poor Lady Mipha. Poor Princess Zelda. 

 

“People say that this trip may be her last hope of unlocking the sealing power,” Chanson said softly.  Lady Mipha’s beautiful golden eyes were sad, and she gave a small nod.

 

“Isn’t it?” Revali retorted. “Honestly, I really can’t see any point to this farce.  We all know what tomorrow will bring.” He rolled his eyes and shook his head again.

 

“And what is that?” Chanson asked coldly.  The singer had always liked the Rito Champion, despite of -- or maybe even because of -- his grand pompous manner.  Revali had a sense of style and a sense of his own worth. The poet could appreciate that, could maybe even identify... just a little.  It did not hurt that Revali was very fond of Chanson’s songs, and he happily answered questions about himself when Chanson sought to immortalize the heroes in verse.  The poet and the archer had spent many a congenial hour together, but Chanson could not overlook a slight to his princess. 

 

“Failure, of course,” came the Rito warriors airy reply.  He extended a wing and flexed.

 

“Oh, Revali!” gasped Mipha at this rude response.  Chanson’s anger flared.

 

“Are you implying the princess cannot succeed?“ Chanson tried to temper his fury, but by Hylia, if even her champions spoke so of her, how was she to find the strength to continue?  

 

“Calm down, singer,” Revali interrupted, completely unruffled by Chanson’s sputtering fury. “The princess is well-aware she can’t fulfill her sacred duties, and anyone can see how it weighs on her.”

 

Even the self-centered Rito could see her pain and pitied her for it.  The poor princess. Chanson would know how to comfort her if only he had the opportunity.

 

“It’s true,” Mipha said, her voice soft and sad.  “Princess Zelda suffers so.” The two champions felt sorry for the princess, and even though Chanson was somewhat mollified by their expression of empathy, he still winced at the thought that his beloved princess, daughter of Hylia, inspired pity more than a recognition of her glory and honor.  

 

“It’s difficult for me to comprehend the troubles of the talentless, but... I’m trying.”  Revali told her. Chanson felt his eyes narrow.

 

“It’s not that I dislike the princess,” Revali explained, catching sight of Chanson’s disapproval.   “She tries her hardest, I know that, but it just isn’t good enough.” Revali sighed again and examined a loose feather on his wing, pulling and prodding until it laid flat.

 

He looked up to find the Sheikah poet glaring down at him, his teeth clenched.  The singer was actually trembling.

 

“Why, whatever is the matter with you?” Revali asked, surprised at the poet’s unhinged appearance.   Chanson could not tamp down the fury that was welling within him. Maybe Princess Zelda did not love Chanson, but he still loved her, and he would be damned if he stood by and allowed her to be insulted by this feathery ass.  

 

“You traitorous, clucking cucco,” Chanson hissed between his bared teeth.  This arrogant archer ought to be plucked and roasted for dinner -- carved and served up on a plate he would be of more use to Princess Zelda.  “I would that you were strung up by your own bow string for such faithless words.”

 

“Chanson, no…” Mipha laid a calming hand on his arm.  Chanson stood frozen in his rage, and while he did not throw off Lady’s Mipha’s cool hand, neither did he allow himself to be assuaged.

 

“I beg your pardon?” Revali squawked, his feathers ruffled in irate surprise.  “Of all the ill-mannered behavior!” The Rito gaped at this sudden turn. Who did this stringy poet think he was, speaking to a champion is such a manner.  Revali only spoke the truth. 

 

“Revali, Chanson -- please, we are all friends here,” Lady Mipha stepped between the two, attempting to bring peace.  Chanson drew himself to his full height, and glared down at Revali, a red splotch on each pale cheek a testament to his outrage.  Revali stared up at Chanson a moment before shaking himself and settling his ruffled feathers. 

 

“It’s quite all right, Mipha,” Revali said more calmly, glancing at the Zora maiden briefly before turning back to Chanson with a smirk.  “I would be angry, but what can I expect from a Sheikah, after all? You and all your tribe have always been mere lap dogs to the Hyrule Royal family.”

 

“Oh…” breathed Mipha, “Revali, no.”  

 

The insult was too great.  Chanson opened his mouth to spill the venom he knew would eviscerate the Rito warrior.  The entire kingdom knew Revali could never compare to Link. The bow was not even Link’s chosen weapon, and he still outstripped Revali who had put in years of practice and work.  Honestly, Revali’s rivalry with Link was just a little pathetic considering the Rito archer was no match at all to Link’s skill in battle. It was a little sad that Revail thought he could ever compare to the Hylian hero.  

 

All these thoughts rushed through Chanson’s mind in an instant and were ready to spill from his lips when he remembered his golden princess.  As worthless as Revali was, Princess Zelda needed every bit of support she could get. To create dissension and foster discord among her champions would only harm her.  Chanson would not do that to his princess, so he closed his mouth and swallowed the hateful words.

 

Mipha squeezed his arm.  “I’m proud of you,” she whispered.  Chanson felt anything but proud. As usual, he felt like a weakling and a wretch.  What good was his eloquence if he was too afraid to speak aloud when it really counted.  He stayed silent and comforted himself by glaring at Revali.

 

The archer gave another lofty sigh.  “I suppose your loyalty to the princess is rather... _ sweet _ . However, I don’t see much cause to celebrate yet another failure.”  He gave the fuming Chanson a mocking smile that made his curved beak cruel. “I suppose our singer, here, could turn her ignoble defeat into an ode, but it would be a hollow tribute.  Best to look at things practically.”

 

“Oh, Revali,” called out Mipha.  “You  _ will _ join us tomorrow?  Princess Zelda needs our support.”

 

“I’ll think about it, but honestly, Mipha, we all know how it will turn out.”  Revali turned to leave. “Don’t you think it will make her feel worse to have a witnesses in her defeat?”  He narrowed his eyes. “I know I would not appreciate it if I were in her shoes.”

 

Revali arched his neck imperiously, “At least the kingdom has us champions to rely upon.  Ganon won’t catch me unawares, count on that, Chanson. Faithless words, indeed. My faith to the kingdom is beyond question and I don’t take kindly to any suggestion otherwise.  Mark that in your notes, Sheikah, so that when this is all over, you’ll have a real hero to sing about.”

 

“Yes, you are right about that, Rito.” hissed Chanson.  “And his name is Link, bearer of the sword that seals the darkness, and appointed knight to the daughter of Hylia, the light of our kingdom.”  Chanson had no love for Link, but this clucking fool would not be celebrated if Chanson had any say in the matter. 

 

Revali’s beak dropped and he seemed to wilt under Chanson’s haughty stare.  The archer recovered himself and with an angry snort, turned and left the Zora maiden and the singer alone.

 

Chanson let out a shaking breath he was not even aware he had been holding.  He lifted a trembling hand to his forehead and rubbed the throbbing vein he found there.

 

“Chanson, are -- are you okay?” Lady Mipha asked.

 

“I will be, my lady,” he croaked out.  “It was...difficult...for me to hear my princess so maligned.”  Was this to be his life? Living in a constant state of emotional distress?  The great poets all praised such emotional depth which could be poured into poetry and song, but Chanson did not know if he could survive much more of this.  There had to be a better way.

 

“You are a faithful courtier, indeed,” Mipha said firmly.  “Princess Zelda is fortunate to have such loyal subjects.”

 

“Is she?  I wish I could do better by her,” Chanson spoke heedlessly.  “There is so much I would do for her, if she would only let me.”  He lifted a hand to his head and wondered if Lady Mipha would be offended if he undid his top knot.  He had such a headache.

 

Chanson looked up to find Lady Mipha’s kind eyes staring at him with pity and understanding.

 

“Oh,” he heard Mipha say softly and looked up.  “I see now.”

 

“See what?” Chanson asked.  

 

“It’s her...the princess,” Mipha spoke gently, hesitating.  “You are in love with Princess Zelda.” A blush rose to her cheeks and she glanced down at her feet.

 

Ah.  Transparent as glass then.  Well, what of it? There was no shame in loving, and no use in hiding it anymore.  It’s not like anything would come of it, after all.

 

“Yes, my lady.  Princess Zelda is my beloved,” Chanson admitted, trying to keep his voice steady, “but alas, my love must remain unrequited.”  It was the first time he had admitted it aloud. To make the declaration to another soul gave it a dreadful finality. Princess Zelda would never be his.

 

“No, Chanson, no, why must it?” Mipha asked him.  “Should we not be bold in love? Take courage!”

 

He shook his head slowly.  She did not understand.

 

“What has happened to my daring singer, who so inspired me?” She smiled at him.  Chanson flinched to think that he had encouraged Mipha in her hopeless love. He wondered about the Zora engagement armor she had made for Link.  Had she brought it with her to Hyrule Castle? Would she attempt another proposal when the knight returned from Mt. Lanayru? Did she have any idea at all that Link would never accept such a gift?  Looking into her bright eyes, Chanson did not think so.

 

“No, my lady, it is quite hopeless,” the poet said, running his hand over his face.  “Princess Zelda is in love with another,” came his heedless confession. He had not intended to reveal this.  He was certain Princess Zelda would not want it spoken of. Who was the worse traitor? Chanson or Revali? The man who derided her lack of power or the man who revealed the secrets of her heart?  Chanson felt sick.

 

“Princess Zelda!  In love?” Mipha gasped in surprise.  “But with whom?” Chanson stared at Mipha in despair.  He had no words. He could not tell the Zora Princess that Princess Zelda was in love with the very same knight Mipha intended to marry.  The happy smile Mipha wore began to fade when she saw Chanson’s pitying look. 

 

“Is -- is it someone I know?” she asked, the tiniest catch in her voice.  Chanson considered his response. Maybe he should just tell her since she could not seem to see what Chanson saw, what Robbie saw, what Impa saw, what everyone in the whole damn castle saw, at least everyone who cared to look -- Princess Zelda was in love with her appointed knight.  

 

“My lady, I --”  Chanson broke off before he could finish and simply nodded. In the long run, it would be a kindness to tell her.  Yes, Lady Mipha knew him.

 

“I see.” Lady Mipha’s voice was a whisper and she looked down at her clasped hands.  “Well,” she said more brightly. “I am very happy for Princess Zelda. To love someone is a great power, indeed.”  Chanson nodded miserably. It did not seem so to him. In fact, he had never felt weaker in his life.

 

“This may be a...a turning point, perhaps,” Mipha said.  “I know when I heal someone, it helps to...well, I would be so embarrassed to admit this to anyone but you, Chanson...it helps to think about someone I...well...that I _ care  _ for.”  Her voice was falsely bright, her smile brittle.  “In fact, when I heal someone that I care for, my powers are even greater.  So, you see --” here her voice broke, “It’s quite wonderful that Princess Zelda is in love.”  She took a deep breath and tried not to sniffle.

 

Chanson reached out and laid a comforting hand on her small shoulder.  The Zora princess attempted to smile at him. 

 

“You don’t...ah.. You don’t happen to know if -- well -- if…” she stammered and looked down again, “Do you know if Princess Zelda’s love is...ahem...returned?”

 

Chanson wondered how many of Lady Mipha’s questions he could answer with silence.  He did not know for absolute certain that Link loved Princess Zelda. He had seen Link comfort Princess Zelda, flirt with her, kiss her, joke with her.  Did those things add up to love? If Chanson were a betting man, he would feel quite comfortable wagering that Link did, in fact, love Princess Zelda, but what good would it do Lady Mipha to hear that from him?  

 

“Lady, I -- Chanson finally answered her, trying to be tender in both his glance and his words.  

 

“No.  No, that’s okay,” Lady Mipha shook her head, “It’s really none of my business.”  

 

She took deep breath and exhaled slowly.  He eyes were bright with unshed tears.

 

“Well!  I wonder what Daruk and Urbosa are up to?”  Mipha gave him another fragile smile, her heartache lurking behind her eyes.  “Shall we go and find them?”

 

Chanson nodded and trailed slowly after the heartsick maiden.  

  
  


* * *

 

  
  


As luck would have it, they found Urbosa and Daruk assisting Link and Princess Zelda with their final preparations.  

 

“Remember, sir knight,” Urbosa spoke to Link with a comically stern expression.  “Protecting the princess is a great honor.” Link nodded firmly. He stood with his legs spread, thumbs hooked into his belt, standing at attention near the princess who bustled about the room in a state of nervous energy.   She and Link would not need much for their journey, but she was finding comfort in methodically checking their supplies.

 

“It’s very cold atop Mt. Lanayru,” Urbosa continued.  “You take care that our little bird does not catch a chill, Link.”  The Gerudo chieftain gave a wink to the stoic young man. He widened his blue eyes, but gave no other response.  Zelda threw a warning glance at her friend, who threw her head back and laughed.  

 

“Hey, little guy,” Daruk’s genial voice boomed out and filled the chamber.  “What an honor, eh? To escort tiny princess to Mt. Lanayru, pinnacle of wisdom!”  He laughed loud and long. “Not quite the place for a rock head like me, but you’re gonna do great!”  He clapped Link on the back. The knight stumbled and let out a whining grunt. That had to have hurt.

 

Princess Zelda glanced up from where she was packing a leather satchel with little bottles of a red elixir.  She wore her priestess gown, all gold and white with her hair streaming down.  Her bare arms were encircled with golden bracelets that flashed in the light. “You do yourself a disservice, Daruk,” she said. “You have shown your wisdom more than once with your good counsel to both me and Link.”  She smiled at him. “I am most grateful to you.”

 

“Hey,” Daruk’s stoney face broke out into a broad grin.  “Thanks a lot, tiny princess. Good to know there are some brains behind the brawn!”  Link stepped out of the way quickly lest Daruk feel the need to slap him on the back again.  The quick motion caused him to bump into Zelda, who reached out a steadying hand. They caught each other’s eye and for a moment, Chanson was sure that they thought themselves the only two people in the room.  He heard Mipha suck in a sharp breath next to him.

 

Zelda turned around at the sound.  

 

“Oh, hello, Mipha,” she said politely with a tight smile.  “I am glad to see you before I depart.” Then with more warmth, she greeted the poet.  “I hoped you would be around, Chanson!”  His fragile heart beat faster at this greeting.  She may not love him, but she needed him, she did!

 

She turned to Link, “Remember, I told you that there was a song I wanted you to hear.”  Link gazed at Chanson steadily. There was a look in the knight’s eyes that set off alarm bells in the poet's head.  Oh...oh no.  Link knew. She had told Link about the song, about the circumstances in which she had heard it. Chanson felt his right eye twitch.  Mipha glanced curiously between Link and Chanson.

 

“Ah...yes, princess,” stammered Chanson.  “Did--did you want me to play it? Now?”  Please no, he thought to himself, by Hylia, please don't make me do it now, came his silent prayer.

 

“Well, no time like the present.  We must be leaving soon.” Princess Zelda smiled at Chanson.  “You don’t mind, do you?”  

 

Yes.  Yes, he minded very much.  He did not want to play the song he rearranged out of love and devotion to Link, of all people.  But he had promised her, and for her, he would do anything.

 

“My-- my lyre is in my chambers,” Chanson told her.  “I’ll need to go get it.”

 

“That’s fine,” Zelda told him. “I need to finish up here, but why don’t you go with him, Link?”

 

Link gave her a reluctant look though he said nothing.

 

“Oh, don’t worry,” she answered his silence.  “Urbosa and Mipha will help me. And Daruk, as well?”

 

“You got it, tiny princess!” the Goron champion answered her enthusiastically.

 

“See now?  All is well.  You run along with Chanson and meet me at the castle gate when you are finished.”  She gave him a look that brooked no argument. Chanson and Link looked at each other.  They could not refuse their princess. 

 

So, in short order, Chanson found himself in his rooms, perched tensely on a chair with his lyre while Link sat across from him.  It had to have been one of the most awkward moments of Chanson’s life. And he had had quite of few of them.

 

He looked down at his instrument as he tightened strings and prepared for his performance.  He did not want to meet Link’s aggressive stare.

 

“I -- ah -- I found an ancient scroll with this melody inscribed upon it,” Chanson began to explain.  “In the castle library.” He saw Link nod out of the corner of his eye.

 

“I rearranged the piece as a -- well -- as a birthday gift,” he swallowed an uncomfortable lump in his throat, “for the princess.”  Again, he saw Link nod.

 

“She heard the song recently -- “ he glanced up at Link whose stare was even harder to meet than before.

 

“Yes,” the knight interrupted him.  “She told me.” So few words, and yet Chanson felt convicted on the spot.  The princess had told Link, had told him everything, Chanson was sure of it.  It was only  love and respect for the princess that kept Link from thrashing Chanson on the spot for his forward actions.  

 

Chanson sighed and looked back down at his lyre.  “Well, then, you know she wanted you to hear it, so --”  he ran his fingers across the strings, testing them before he began.

 

He glanced at Link again and began.  Chanson had been certain that his fear and embarrassment would keep him from playing well, that his trembling fingers and twisting stomach would cause him to pluck sour notes.  To his surprise, once he began, the music again took control. He closed his eyes, his fingers moving across the strings, making his harp sound, and yet, who was playing him? He was but an instrument himself, an instrument to Hylia.   A great force beyond his ken was in control. It was blissful to relinquish himself to the ebb and flow of melody. And so he played, played out of love for his princess, his Zelda. The music told of his desire to comfort her, soothe her fears and give her rest.  The song spoke of her cleverness, her compassion, her bright and shining spirit. She was the light of Hyrule. The light of his world. 

 

Chanson could not have said how much time passed as he played.  It could not have taken long, for the song was fairly short. And yet, a century could have passed from the time he closed his eyes and started to play to the time he plucked the last note and opened his eyes to find the hero of Hyrule staring at him with an open, wondrous expression on his face.

 

“Oh,” Link breathed.  His hand came up and rested on his breast, over his heart.  Chanson blinked, slowly coming back to himself. 

 

“It’s her,” Link said quietly.  “It’s for her.” He was looking at Chanson, but not seeing him, his blue eyes looking through him to another time, another place.

 

“Hylia?” Chanson asked, still feeling the tingle of power in his fingertips.  He felt drunk.

 

“No -- well, yes -- but no.”  Link’s eyes came to focus on Chanson with difficulty.  “It’s Zelda. It’s always been Zelda,” he said with a gentle, loving smile at the thought of his princess. “You’ve captured her soul in that song,” Link said to him, still a little unfocused.  “How beautiful,” he sighed. “Beautiful,” he repeated quietly. 

 

In his magical haze, Chanson’s jealousy was but a flicker, a tiny ember smothered by the beauty of the music.  Under the power of the song, the poet was magnanimous, delighting in Link’s open expression of love for Princess Zelda, inspired by Chanson’s own art.

 

Link slowly rose from the plush velvet sofa.  “It grows late,” he said with a quick glance out the window.  The sun was all but gone, the stars beginning to shine dimly in the purpling sky.  Link walked to the door, but turned back to look at Chanson, who stayed seated on his chair, the lyre gripped loosely in his hands.  

 

“Thank you,” Link told him, quiet sincerity in his voice, before opening the door and taking his leave.  Chanson nodded to the knight, a gentle, golden calm settling deep in his bones.

 

Later, much later, long after the knight, still in rapt wonder, left the poet’s chambers and followed the princess up the mountain, Chanson threw himself into his bed and sobbed out his grief and frustration, knowing that he would ever be but a lover denied, an observer to a great love that spanned all time and space -- a love that could never be his.


	14. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This one was hard to write!

In later years, Chanson sometimes looked back on that fateful day, and while grief and fear were certainly the main emotions such a memory stirred, he was often struck with a tinge of embarrassment as well.  

 

When Calamity Ganon struck, Princess Zelda and Link had been returning from Mt. Lanayru.  Their faithful champions, Revali included, had journeyed there to stand with them in steadfast friendship and service.   King Rhoam had been in the Sanctum rallying his guard to fight the beast to the death, either its or theirs. Heroes, all of them.

 

Chanson, however, had been in the Royal Tech Lab, eating a rice ball and arguing with Robbie about whether the scientist’s goggles made him look dashing or not.  Through a mouthful rice, Chanson explained that while he certainly understood the usefulness of the goggles, they did not make the fashion statement Robbie thought they did.  

 

It was a stupid argument, but Chanson felt stupid -- dull and sad.  He had cried for hours the night before, cried as he had never cried before.  He wanted to tell himself that the tears were childish, but they were not. They were the tears of a man disappointed in love, a man denied what he thought was his role in life.  They were the tears of a lost soul, and they had left him empty.

 

Arising late, he stopped off in the the kitchens and begged a basket of food from a pretty serving girl before heading to find his Sheikah compatriots.  He was certain they would not cheer him, but it would pass the time until the princess returned. 

 

“Furthermore, Robbie, I am almost certain that Cherry is simply humoring you when she says tha--” Chanson’s diatribe was cut short by an unearthly howl, rising from what seemed like the very depths of the earth.  He dropped the remnants of his snack and looked at Robbie. The scientist’s eyes were wide and frightened.

 

“What in the name of Hylia, was that?” Robbie asked, and jumping up from his bench, he threw open the shutters.  There was a fearful rumbling, and then the earth began to shake, the walls of the lab cracking, the tremors growing more violent as the howls and shrieks grew louder.

 

“No...Nooooo!!!”  Robbie cried out, terror and anguish in his voice.  Purah ran to her brother’s side.

 

Calamity Ganon was awake.

 

Chanson did not remember much of his flight from Hyrule Castle.  There were screams and blood. The horrific whirring of gears as the guardians, meant to be their support in the fight against Calamity Ganon, turned against the people.  The sound of the laser powering up would haunt Chanson’s dreams for the rest of his life. Destruction and blood. Malice, a swirling miasma, rising up and choking out all hope. 

 

Chanson, Robbie and Purah fled together across fields, ducking and hiding when the mechanical nightmares, fueled by Ganon’s malice crossed their path.  He remember the pain in his side from running, running, running and never stopping until he had to stop, to let Robbie catch up. He remembered Robbie’s sobbing breaths, saying aloud over and over that he was sure Cherry had made it to Kakariko.  He knew she was out of castle. He knew it! He knew it!!

 

Chanson had hoped so, for Robbie’s sake.  Many of their fellow Sheikah had begun a journey to Kakariko, as Impa’s wedding was to be held within the week.  The advisor herself had set off for the village some days ago to prepare for her nuptials. In the midst of his terror, there was some comfort in knowing that maybe...maybe...some of their friends would survive.

 

But where was Princess Zelda?  Where was Link? Were they in Hyrule Castle even now, fighting the beast?  Chanson did not know how anyone, let alone the delicate princess and her youthful knight could stand against the malevolent porcine terror Chanson had glimpsed over one shoulder as he fled.  Chanson hoped, prayed, that the princess had been able to unlock her power in Mt. Lanayru’s holy spring. He hoped and prayed that Link would have the strength and the power to slay the beast.  He cast desperate eyes to the east to the west, looking for evidence of the Divine Beasts unleashing their power, but there was nothing but ash and red flames in the sky. Where had the champions gone?

 

It was on the outskirts of Fort Hataeno, in the midst of Blatchery Plain, Chanson’s hopes died.  He and the two Sheikah huddled together, hands clasped, silently sobbing, chests hitching as they struggled for breath.  They crouched behind a stoney outcropping, watching countless Guardians swarm the field. They would never make it out alive.  

 

How long had they stayed there, hopeless and too helpless to move?  Chanson sometimes thought that the evil had slowed down time and mired them in an eternity of terror.  Hate, blood, destruction, the end of everything. 

 

And then there was a flash of movement.  A familiar blur of champion blue. Chanson’s heart lifted for a moment.  It was Link! And the princess, his cherished lady, was right behind!

 

But that could not be right?  Ganon was in the castle still.  Should they not be at the castle, joined in battle against the beast?  They were running, Chanson realized, running away -- to Kakariko, to Hataeno.  No matter where. The princess did not have her power, or Link would not have her by the wrist, dragging her behind him, taking her to safety.

 

But there was no safety.  Chanson and the Sheikah heard the terrible grinding of gears as the guardians all turned their attention to the princess and the knight.  Lasers flashed and there was the shriek of metal on metal and the organic grunts and cries of the appointed knight fighting for the princess’s life.  Chanson always found music in everything, but these noises were an abomination to the ear. He heard a low, keening moan and realized it was coming from him.  He felt Purah’s hand tighten against his arm, but he could not stop himself. 

 

The next time Chanson dared lift his head from his hiding spot, he saw Link, broken and bleeding, heave himself to his feet to put himself between Princess Zelda and an oncoming guardian.  That he had fought valiantly was evident by the broken guardians that surrounded them, but more and more kept coming. Chanson heard the princess’s sobbing plea for Link to save himself, to run.

 

”I’ll be okay, go!” she commanded.

 

He refused to leave her side.  The guardian loomed, but Link stood on shaking legs and attempted to lift his sword.

 

What happened next was difficult to discern.  In later years, Chanson would ponder this moment, trying to make sense of what he had seen.

 

Link was going to die for the princess.  He put himself between her and the guardian, giving her a split second to run, to try to save herself, but the princess refused to leave her appointed knight.  Princess Zelda pushed Link out of the way, throwing herself in the path of death. She was willing to die for him, to give him a few more moments of life and a fighting chance to get away.

 

“No!” she shrieked, and light, brighter than any Chanson had ever known, flooded the plain, blinding him.  A ringing in his ears and a sudden silence that lasted a second, a century, who knew, but it was a blessed silence and a sudden peace amidst the bloody chaos.  It was the light of Hylia.

 

His last coherent thought before he blacked out was a silent prayer of thanks.

 

When Chanson came to, there was a blissful silence.  He saw Robbie and Purah hesitantly rising from their hiding place, staring with open mouths across the plain where the smoking remains of guardians littered the field.  They were dead! Princess Zelda broke them, defeated the malice driven terror machines. Chanson gave a stunned sort of laugh, joy and relief flooding his veins.

 

And then he saw them.

 

Princess Zelda cradling Link’s broken body, sobbing into his chest.

 

_ Oh, oh no.   _

 

Next to him, Robbie was moving, running, rushing to the aid of his princess and his friend.

 

“Princess!!” Robbie called to her.  Chanson ran behind, his long legs easily catching up to Robbie.  Purah hurried along behind.  When they reached the princess and Link, they knelt before her. The power of the goddess imbued her with a golden glow, and when she gave her command to carry Link to the Shrine of Resurrection, they did not question it.  

 

Exhausted and hurt as they both were, under Princess Zelda’s holy command, they were filled with an almost supernatural calm.  They obeyed their princess, their goddess, without hesitation.

 

It was a painful journey, bearing the weight of Link’s broken and bleeding body between them. They quickly fashioned a kind of litter upon which to carry him, but it was a difficult, bloody business.  Purah followed alongside, helping as she could. The princess led the way, the master sword gripped in one hand. She said it spoke to her. _She_ spoke to it as the solemn, strange procession moved through the countryside, passing broken guardians, terrified villagers, and slain monsters along the way.  Chanson did not doubt Princess Zelda’s power to do anything at that point, though he, himself, could hear nothing, nothing but his own heartbeat inside his head, nothing but the shallow, rasping breaths of the dying knight.

 

How they actually got Link into the Shrine, Chanson did not know.  It took the combined effort of all four of them to lift him into the healing pool, and Chanson feared doing him greater injury from the manhandling. By the time they had him in the pool, many of his wounds were bleeding worse than before, making small, tacky puddles of dark blood on the black marble.

 

While Purah and Robbie busied themselves with preparing the Slumber of Restoration, worrying and arguing quietly over the details, Chanson helped Princess Zelda strip Link of his tattered clothes.  While Chanson carefully removed the knight’s boots, Princess Zelda cradled Link’s head, gently drawing off the bloody champion’s tunic, made with her own hands, and then his linen undershirt. She sat on the side of the pool, his head in her lap, and took a moment to wipe the knight’s face with his undershirt.  She spoke to Link in quiet, hushed tones, but the words were lost to Chanson. He gaped in stunned horror at the extent of Link’s injuries.

 

Chanson blanched and felt as though he might faint.  Though Link was cut and bleeding from several places, the wound on his abdomen was the death blow.  It was open and pulsing, oozing blood and the knight’s very lifeforce. Link was very pale, his closed eyes sunken and purple.  He would not live for much longer without intervention. That he still breathed at all was a miracle. Zelda gently stroked back Link’s matted hair from his forehead before gently laying his head down on the slab and moving undo his trousers.  Chanson assisted her as best he could, his hands shaking. He and the princess tugged the trousers down the knight’s legs, taking his underpants with them, moving slowly and carefully trying not to cause further pain.  

 

Soon, Link lay naked, cold and closer to dead than alive on the black slab while they waited for Purah and Robbie to start the sequence which would fill the pool with healing waters and initiate the restorative slumber.  Link’s breaths were shallow and faint as the waters started to rise around him.

 

Princess Zelda’s eyes raked over Link’s body, memorizing every burn, every cut.  At the time, the poet did not think of it, but later, he wondered if she were remembering holding him in another pool of water, in quite different circumstances.  He waited for the spark of jealousy to flare, observing himself almost as if from a distance, but there was nothing, no feeling at all except for a dreadful sorrow for his dear princess.  The young woman standing before him had lost her lover, or as near as lost. It would take 100 years to bring him back. Even with the blood of the goddess, she would be withered and ancient by the time Link awoke from his sleep.  If he woke.

 

The Master Sword emitted a glow, drawing Princess Zelda’s attention away from her knight, and for the first time Chanson heard a strange kind of call, not quite music, but near to it.  

 

“Yes, I understand,” the princess answered the sword, and leaned over the pool to brush the matted hair from Link’s forehead.  He had almost bled out and was waxy and pale. Princess Zelda reached out her hand and ran it over the cold skin of Link’s torso, delicate fingers probing the ghastly open wound in his belly, holding her hand over it lightly, lightly as if she were willing it to close.  Under Chanson’s startled eyes, the blood did cease to flow. Was it from Hylia’s power or had Link simply lost all the blood he had? The princess bent to brush her lips over Link’s forehead, his eyes, and briefly, over his cold, blue lips.

 

“Link,” she whispered, her mouth close to his ear.  The waters were rising and the front of her gown was wetted as she bent close.  “Link, you must sleep now. Stay with us and sleep.”

 

She laid a gentle hand on his bare chest, barely rising with each labored breath.  “Let your heart beat strong again, like I’ve felt it beat before, so close to mine.  We need you, Link,” she said. “Hyrule needs you.” She caressed the small patch of unmarred skin just below his collar bone.  “I need you,” she said, so quietly, through trembling lips.

 

“You are my light, don’t go out,” she whispered.  “I need you,” she whispered. “I - I …” and she bent her head so that her mouth was pressed against Link’s pointed ear.  Chanson did not hear her words, but he knew what she had said. He wondered if Link had heard her, if somewhere he had any awareness at all.  He hoped so. He truly did. Knowing that Princess Zelda loved him would be enough to come back from the dead for, if anything was.

 

Princess Zelda rose to her feet, unsteady but with resolve.  Her dress was wet and dirty, and she trembled. She looked up at the poet who stood next to her.

 

“It must work, Chanson,” she said fiercely.  “It must! Link cannot die.” The princess’s eyes were wild.  “It’s not over,” she told them, her voice cracking. “Calamity Ganon still lives.  I can’t --” She stopped to calm herself. “I cannot seal Calamity Ganon alone.”

 

She looked around at the Sheikah’s startled faces.  They had all seen her take down the guardians. They had seen the dead enemies along their journey to the shrine.  How could Ganon have survived?

 

“Can’t you hear him howl?” Princess Zelda asked.  “I have him trapped, in Hyrule Castle, but he won’t stay there for long.”  

 

Chanson sucked in his breath and heard brave Purah make a small, fearful noise.  Robbie blinked at her, his blue eyes filling with tears.

 

“But Princess, what will you do?” Purah asked, all bravado gone from her voice.  Robbie put his arm around his sister.

 

“I -- we -- have a plan,” the princess glanced at the Master Sword, where it lay next to Link on the edge of the pool.  It glowed blue in the dim light of the shrine. “But Link must survive! Without him all is lost -- everything…” She shook her head, not able to continue.  Chanson took a tentative step toward her.

 

Princess Zelda clenched her fists, but her mouth twisted and her face contorted as she tried to hold back her despair.  Chanson, acting on instinct, reached out to her, and she stepped into his embrace.

 

For the first time and for the last, Chanson held the princess in his arms.  He ran his fingers through her golden hair, matted with sweat and dirt. Her white gown and the delicate hands that clutched his shirt front were stained with the fallen hero’s blood.  Chanson patted her back, rubbing soothing circles between the shoulders that convulsed with suppressed sobs. 

 

“Shh, shh…” he hummed.  He would not say that it was all going to be okay.  As far as he could tell, it wasn’t ever going to be okay again, but he offered her what he could.  “Link still lives. The Shrine of Resurrection will heal him.”

 

“He will survive.  I know it -- the sword speaks truly.  But everything,” she gasped into his chest.  “Everything that he is...will be gone.” She lifted her head to look Chanson in the eyes and tears spilled over and ran down her cheeks.

 

Chanson held her, mute and aching with his own grief.  This was true love. This was tragedy. Why had he ever admired songs that celebrated lost love, love denied?  He had no words to comfort her, so he remained silent.

 

“He won’t remember --”  she choked on a sob. “He won’t remember me, what we were...what he was to me.”  Chanson, Robbie and Purah shared an anxious glance over the princess’s bent head.

 

She was right.  She knew the capabilities of the shrines and the technology as well as any Sheikah scientist.  She could have been a Sheikah maiden herself. If she had chosen to disguise herself as a Sheikah warrior as her ancestress did long ago, none would be the wiser.  Any reassurances Chanson or the others could offer to the princess would be false comfort. 

 

There was nothing left.  No castle. No king. No hope except for the young woman trembling in his arms and the broken, bleeding knight who lay barely breathing in the restorative pool.

 

“Princess,” Chanson finally spoke, “what you say is true.  The legend of my people are clear that the Shrine of Resurrection will wreak havoc on his memory, but…”  He paused to consider his words. “There are always exceptions to such things, a way to...well, hack the system, I suppose.”  He glanced at the two scientists for support. Robbie shrugged and Purah shook her head. There was no way of knowing.

 

“All the memories, all that you are to him, perhaps he will just need to have the data...downloaded...when he awakes.”  Chanson honestly had no idea what he was talking about. He was a singer, not a scientist. Purah squinted her eyes and looked thoughtful.  She left them to pick up the princess’s Sheikah slate, forgotten in the heap of Link’s clothes. He had been keeping it safe for her. Purah began to tinker with slate, and after a moment, she handed it to Robbie to inspect.

 

The princess did not notice.  She was looking at Chanson intently, a dim ray of hope lighting her tear-streaked face.  She cocked her head, again listening to a voice no one else could hear. 

 

“You may be right…” she said, almost to herself or to the sword or to Chanson.  It was difficult to say. “If so, we would need to build in redundancies, back up the memories as a kind of fail-safe, perhaps a kind of...of triple modular redundancy...yes…”  Zelda the scientist took over, nodding to herself. Chanson let her words pour over him, his dazed mind not able to take in her comments about “degeneracy,” “error correction” and “fault tolerance.”   It did not matter what she meant. She had found a small degree of comfort and calm in figuring out a process.  Her trembling ceased. She stepped away from Chanson’s arms and gazed intently at the sword, lying next to Link’s pool.  

 

“I do believe it could work,” she said.  “I can leave memories for him to find…” she muttered to herself.  “Impa and the others can tell him, or pass on the stories to others to tell him if...well, if it takes longer than we think.”  She suddenly took notice of what Purah and Robbie were doing with her Sheikah stage.

 

“Purah!  The images...on the slate --”  Zelda began eagerly. 

 

“Already on it, Princess!” Purah beamed at her, waving the slate.  The Sheikah maiden was dirty and exhausted, but some of her brightness was back.  She had a problem to solve.

 

Princess Zelda turned back to Chanson.  “Maybe something could be written down, as well...but is there time?”  

 

Something flared in the back of Chanson’s brain.  He had another solution for her, but how to achieve it, he did not know.  

 

“Songs, my lady?” he said, quite stupidly he thought when he saw her blank look.  “The ancient songs made him remember things of his past self. Maybe those songs…” Could be played for him when he awoke?  Played next to him in the pool? He did not know.

 

“Yes.  Yes, good!”  She said to the poet, her eyes wild, an almost feral smile baring her teeth.  She moved to sit on the edge of the pool again, reaching out to touch Link’s hair, his face once more. 

 

“Time grows short,” she said with more hope than she had before.  “I must go and play my role.” Her fingers traced over Link’s lips.  They had lost some of the blue tinge, though he still looked closer to dead than alive.

 

“Princess,” Chanson croaked, “what is it you intend to do?”  

 

She looked at him with a slow, sad smile.  She stood up and reached to grasp his hand lightly in her own.

 

“Link knows me, knows my soul, and all that I am, but you saw the goddess in me when none of the others could,” she gave him a look of infinite tenderness.  “You believed in me when I had no belief in myself.” That was no answer at all, really, but those words were a gift to the poet. 

 

He bowed his head.  “Thank you, princess.”

 

“Thank  _ you _ , Chanson.”  She rose on her tiptoes to kiss his face, her sweet lips pressed to his sweaty cheek, rough with stubble and streaked with grime.

 

“I shall now be the goddess, for you, for Hyrule, and most of all, for Link.  Thank you for your belief and for your lessons in love.” He lifted his hand to his cheek.  The goddess had blessed him. If he died right now, it would all be worth it.

 

“Remember me, Chanson, so that he might not forget.”  She smiled at him and then knelt to pick up the champion’s tunic.  She folded it neatly, her hands carefully smoothing out the wrinkles, as gentle as if she were touching the tunic’s owner, before draping it over her arm.  

 

“Stay with him for me,” Zelda beseeched the poet.  “Just a little longer, until he is well and truly settled.  I would do so myself, but...” she indicated the sword, “there is much I must do, and so little time.”  

 

The Princess hugged and kissed Purah and Robbie, each in turn, and disappeared into the night, dragging the sword in one hand and clutching Link’s tunic in the other.  Later, he wondered that he, Robbie and Purah let he go off alone like that, but their focus was on Link and truly, the power of Hylia still radiated off of the princess.  She would be safe.

 

Chanson stood stunned beside the pool holding Link’s body after the princess left.  He did not know what to do. Where to go. Purah and Robbie were still fiddling with dials and arguing with each other, and Link lay still and blue in the pool.  After Zelda left, the knight looked even worse, if that were possible. The dying knight sucked in a rattling breath and began to spasm. Purah and Robbie flew about adjusting knobs, pulling levers.  Chanson flung himself down in a panic next to Link’s quaking body. 

 

“No!  No, stay with us Link!” he gasped.  “Zelda! Zelda needs you. You cannot go, you cannot leave her!”  The poet begged. He reached out to try still the knight’s movements, to offer some comfort.  The wounds were a horror, and Chanson shuddered when his hand passed over the worst of them. Link groaned, low and ghostly, and Chanson shivered to hear it.  

 

Instinct alone drove him.  He patted Link’s shoulder, broad and once so strong, and began to hum, at first a tuneless kind of hushing sound to soothe, but soon he was crooning a little melody, which became the song he had rearranged for Princess Zelda’s birthday, her lullaby.  How appropriate.

 

As the knight’s body stilled, he turned his head ever so slightly at the sound of Chanson’s voice, his eyes opening, revealing slits of blue.  Chanson reached into the pool to grasp Link’s hand and hummed the lullaby. The clouded blue eyes focused on him for a split second. “Sleep now, Link,” Chanson said.  “Rest now, so you can return to her, to Zelda.” A dim light flared, comprehension dawning. “Zelda needs you,” Chanson told him. “Rest.” 

 

Link closed his eyes, his breathing calmed, more regular.  

 

Chanson could not have said how long he stayed kneeling, clutching Link’s limp hand in his own, crooning the wordless lullaby.  After some time, Purah touched his shoulder, and Robbie helped him rise to his feet. His hand was pruned and wrinkly from being in the healing waters.  The three Sheikah looked down at the fallen hero.

 

“I think…” Purah began hopefully, “I think he looks a little better?”

 

Robbie adjusted his goggles and peered down at Link, who lay still and quiet, breathing in and out...in and out...in and out.

 

“He’s definitely more stable,” Robbie announced.  “I think it might work?”

 

“Here’s hoping,” Purah responded, as brightly as she could.  

 

“He’s definitely going to bear the scars though,” Robbie shook his head.  “Whew!”

 

Chanson looked Link over, saw the ghastly wound in his belly. The crisscrossing red lines on his chest and legs.  A dreadful burn on one arm. Among the raw, red wounds received in the recent battle, there were older, silvery scars from his time as a Royal Guard or as Zelda’s appointed knight.  An arrow wound on his thigh. A talon mark on his shin. A silver line on his forehead. The scars alone should tell him a story when he awoke. Chanson wondered if Zelda had seen those old, silvery scars before this day.  Had she traced them with fingertips or lips while Link told her of his valor in battle? 

 

Chanson hoped so.  He hoped that the sweetness of such a memory would bring Link back to himself.  May he look at the puncture wound on his thigh and remember a time when the Princess of Hyrule, his Zelda, knelt before him and marked it with her kisses.  May his body remember her tender touch long after his mind was wiped clean of the memory of her. 

 

As for his mind, Chanson already had some idea where he could be of help there.

 

The heart remembers even as the memory fails, and music has a way of bringing those memories back to life, as rich as if they happened but a day before.

 

He would write a song, a song to honor them, to honor the sacrifice made to save each other, a sacrifice which allowed hope to survive, even with the Calamity roaring in the distance.  A love song, for it was their unconditional love for each other that brought this hope to everyone.

 

The poet knew his songs triggered something in Link’s memory.  The ancient song Chanson played during the princess’s meditations awoke some ancient memory of Link’s past life.  The reincarnated hero remembered himself, for just an instant. There must be other such songs which, if Link could hear them, would awaken him to his duty as the hero of Hyrule and the consort of the princess. Chanson would weave in the melodies from centuries ago, to appeal to the soul memories that lingered from heroes past.  Together they would remind Link of his duty to save the princess who battled Ganon alone. 

 

Chanson’s mission was clear.  He would find and record all of the ancient songs, any line of verse, no matter how fragmented, he would collect and save until Link awoke from the Shrine of Resurrection.  More than that, he would write a song to help Link remember himself,  _ this _ version of himself and the love he shared with  _ this _ princess.  Chanson’s princess. Let this song be the spark that re-ignites the flame of the knight’s love for Zelda.  The poet could do that much for her...and for him. 

 

If at all possible, Chanson would preserve Zelda and Link’s love with his music and create for her the happy ending she..that _they_... deserved.

 


	15. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The epilogue.

 

Many years later, after the raw wounds Ganon had made on the land and their hearts had scabbed over, Impa liked to say that she was the one who set Chanson straight about his love for the princess, but the poet had already come to terms with the fact that Link and Zelda loved each other above all else long before he and Impa spoke.

However, he was young.  He was traumatized. He did not understand exactly what containing Ganon meant for Princess Zelda.

So, when the princess disappeared into the Lost Woods, Chanson fully expected that she would come back.  Oh, maybe not right away, but he had seen, with his own eyes, how she had destroyed the guardians on Blatchery Plain.  He assumed that she would do something similar to Calamity Ganon and then return to her friends to wait while the Shrine of Resurrection did its work.  

After the initial horror of the attack, after they had counted survivors and buried their dead, Chanson returned to his parents’ home in Kakariko Village and waited.  Princess Zelda would surely return anytime now, Chanson reasoned, and he intended to be there for her.

Perhaps he could be excused for imagining that he could serve as a comfort to her upon her return.  Link’s healing would take most of century. Should she simply sit and wait for her hero to return or would she want to find a friend or something more in her faithful court poet?  Not that Chanson could ever replace Link, but he could not help but hope, for...something...another opportunity, perhaps, to serve her with his love in some concrete, tangible way.

The weeks turned to months.  Chanson spent his days helping fortify the village and re-settling survivors from Castle Town and the surrounding villages.  By night, he found comfort in his music though the energy to compose was lacking. Hyrule Castle was still engulfed in the seething, black malice, but Ganon appeared to be contained within the strong walls of the castle.  Monsters and rogue guardians still roamed the land, but Chanson and the others had faith that their princess would soon put everything to rights...as much as she could, at least, until Link awoke.

So, Chanson had hope.  Too much, perhaps.

One afternoon, a young man wandered into Kakariko, a survivor from Hyrule Castle.  The boy looked vaguely familiar, and Chanson realized with a start that it was the young stablehand who had sung Chanson’s songs as he saddled his horse.  The poet realized with a pang, that the boy’s father had likely not survived, a fact the boy confirmed when Chanson had a chance to speak to him after he settled in.

Chanson strummed his lyre and let the boy talk.  He had seen too much horror, too much blood. His father had been killed by a Guardian during the initial attack, while the boy hid, terrified, in the straw.  With his father dead, the boy stole the princess’s white stallion and fled for safety. He been thrown at some point during his flight, and the horse ran away, leaving the young man to continue on foot.

Chanson let him pour out his horror, giving a sympathetic ear, but after a while, he could not help but ask the boy the one question he had asked of every survivor who had wandered into Kakariko.

“And the princess?  Did you see her at all?”  Chanson expected the same answer he received from everyone else.  No. No, of course not.

“Yes!” the boy gasped.  “Yes, by Hylia, I saw her.  Her horse, when we were up the top of the Dueling Peaks, it balked and kept turning back toward the castle.  I saw her...from a distance, but I knew it was her...in that dress.”

The boy shuddered. 

“She was glowing!  Had like a gold fire around her.  She was so far away, but I SAW her so clear.  She...she was terrifying.” The boy shook his head as if to shake away the memory.

Chanson laid his lyre down with numb fingers.  

“What happened to her?  Where is se now?” Chanson asked desperately.

“Oh, sir.” The boy whispered.  “It’s too awful.”

“What is?” Chanson demanded, terror flooding his veins.

“It...the beast...It swallowed her!” The boy trembled at the memory.

Chanson blinked, nonplussed.

“Swallowed?”  he said dumbly.  “What do you mean swallowed her?”

“I mean what I said.  The beast swallowed her whole,” insisted the boy.

Chanson felt himself begin to tremble.  It couldn’t be true. It wasn’t. She couldn’t be gone.

“The beast, it gave such a roar, and that...that gold fire just shot out everywhere.  That’s when I abandoned the horse and ran for it.” The stable boy hung his head in shame.  “I was a terrible coward, sir.”

“Do you mean…”  Chanson stopped to gather himself.  “Ganon has killed the princess?”

If Zelda were gone...was there any point in waiting for Link?  Was it a matter of time before they all fell to the Calamity? Or had the princess done her part to seal the beast already?  But she could not be gone. Could not be dead! Chanson would have known. He would have felt it, wouldn’t he?

“I -- I dunno,” the boy said.  “You’d think that would kill someone, wouldn’t it?  But I dunno.” The boy shook his head. “Haven’t you seen those flashes of light come out from the castle still?”

He rubbed his head with a shaking hand, a gesture that reminded Chanson painfully of Link’s tic of rubbing the back of his own head.

“I reckon she’s still in there.” the boy said with wide, terrified eyes.

But that would be too awful.  His princess, trapped within the beast with over a century to wait before any help could possibly arrive.  How could she survive it?

She was the goddess, of course.  She had said those exact words to him.  It was time for her to be the goddess. She had laid her mortal self aside.  Would she ever be free to be Zelda again, or was this the final sacrifice that must be made to Hylia?

Chanson realized that there would be no opportunity to make a home for the princess Zelda to wait, to give her companionship and comfort until Link could return.  Even to the probable end of the world, he was a fool. 

He said as much to Impa when he saw her next.  He sat next to her on a cushion, sipping weak tea, feeling weak himself after telling Impa what the stable boy had seen.

“Oh, Chanson,” Impa sighed, laying a comforting hand on his bent head.  

“She really did love him,” Chanson said, a non-sequitur that made sense in his head, but once spoken, he realized made little sense at all.  Even so, Impa seemed to understand.

“He loved her, too, you know,” the Sheikah woman lifted the poet’s chin so he would look at her straight.  “You saw their sacrifice first hand.”

Chanson nodded and cast his eyes down to stare at the tips of boots.

“As the royal advisor, I was privy to certain details that I will now share with you,” Impa told him.  “Zelda would not deny these things now, and there is no shame in telling you about their love.”

Impa settled herself more comfortably on a cushion beside the poet and took a deep breath.

“You saw how close Zelda and Link became, no?  How she relied upon him.” He wise brown eyes gave him a hard look.  For all that she was a young woman, she had a formidable stare. Hylia help Kakariko if she ever became an elder.

Chanson nodded.  He did. He could not deny that Link was a great comfort to Zelda, especially at the end.  The poet so longed to play that role, but it was the knight who captured her heart. 

“Did he have any idea, Impa?” Chanson asked, “Did he know how she loved him?”

“Oh my dear boy,” Impa laughed sadly, “Of course, he did.  Eventually. And he loved her.”

“He was loyal, no doubt about that, but are you sure it was not just his duty, his hero’s soul that made him do what he did.”  Chanson had to say it even though he knew the truth of it for himself. He needed to hear it again, from another’s lips.

“Maybe at first,” Impa pondered. “Zelda and Link’s souls were bound to each other out of duty and love for the kingdom.  But Link was his own person. And Zelda comforted him as well. Did you know how he suffered, trying to be the hero Hyrule needed?  Did you know how terrified he was of failing everyone?”

Chanson shook his head.  Link? Suffering? The poet never considered Link having much in the way of feelings beyond the most primal.  Eat. Fight. Sleep. Chason found it hard to reconcile Link’s placid demeanor with terror. For all of his jealousy and anger with Link, Chanson never, ever doubted that the boy was a powerful warrior and the hero to save them all.  What horror to fear so deeply and not be able to give any inkling of it. What a horror for Link to have ultimately failed in his duty.

Anything could happen in 100 years...would there even be a kingdom to save when he awoke?  Chanson’s own personal terror moved over a bit and made way for sympathy for the broken, bleeding knight who lay sleeping underground.  As much as Chanson envied Link for his deep connection to Zelda, for the kisses and caresses she gave to him, the poet did not envy the young man who would have to live with his failure, if he ever woke up. 

“No?”  Impa drew his attention again. “Link lived with the same doubts and fears that Zelda did.  He spoke of it only to her because he trusted her, because he knew she would understand him and not judge him.  Who else could understand? Daruk? He was Link’s best friend, but ultimately a simple soul. The world was very black and white for Daruk.  Mipha? She loved an idea of Link, not the young man he truly was.” 

Chanson blushed.  He was not so different from Mipha in that respect.  “And Princess Zelda told me, before she left, because she wanted his bravery to be known to someone other than herself...in case she -- “ Impa’s voice broke and tears welled in her dark eyes, “in case she does not return.”

A tear dripped off the end of Chanson’s nose.  He had not realized he was crying. 

Impa shook her head and wiped her eyes.  “Besides that, they liked each other. He enjoyed helping her with her experiments -- he learned so much from her.  They loved riding horses together, and cooking, and Link had... _ has _ ...such a sense of humor,” Impa corrected herself.  “According to Zelda, he could be quite the wit, but he rarely felt safe enough with anyone else to show that side of himself.”

Chanson sniffed at that, both to clear the tears and to let Impa know what he thought of Link’s humor.  Chanson had a flashback of Link sucking his fingers and making the princess blush. The knight wasn’t half as clever as he thought he was, but if he brought joy to the princess, then Chanson could accept it.  Sticky fingers and all.

“He loved music, too.”  Impa told Chanson. “He liked you, you know.  Oh, not so much when he realized you had designs on Zelda, but no hard feelings.  He enjoyed hearing you play. He even sang a few of your songs to Zelda when they were traveling together, helped pass the time, you know?”

Before Chanson had seen what he had seen, before he saw Link and Zelda make such sacrifices for each other, the idea of Link serenading the princess with Chanson’s  _ own _ songs would have been an unforgivable affront.  Now, though, there was something reassuring in it.  Chanson did not get the girl, but he had a role. His music did help woo the princess...just not into his arms.  Chanson sighed. A poet should be happy with such a success.

“Come,” Impa stood and gestured for Chanson to stand.  “Come help me sort and store the items the princess left with us.”

Chanson wrinkled his forehead in puzzlement, but he stood all the same and followed Impa to the next room where an assortment of odds and ends had been stashed.  

“What is all this?” he asked.

“Things that will help Link recover his memory and give him the strength to finish off Ganon once in for all,” Impa replied stooping to pick up Link’s sword belt, dark with blood.  Chanson winced to see it. 

“We are going to wash and fix things as best we can,” the Sheikah woman said briskly, “and then place them where he will need them most.  I will keep the tunic among other things. Purah has the Sheikah slate. She will be updating it, and when the time comes, she will place it in the Shrine. Robbie has his own work.  Come now, Chanson,” her garnet colored eyes narrowed at him, “what role will you play?”

He had an idea, but for the moment, he shrugged and said nothing.  He bent to the task, working quietly as he considered which words should be woven with which notes.  Yes, he knew what his part would be, and Impa would know soon enough. For now, he needed time to think and to compose.

Among the belongings Zelda left behind was the Sheikah Slate picture of the champions.  It must have been taken around the time of the garbing ceremony. Despite his sorrow, he laughed to see it -- Revali’s indignant squawk captured for all time.  Daruk’s mischievous grin. But best of all, Princess Zelda’s beauty was preserved. No matter what happened, here was something better than memory.

“I have no right to ask you this, Impa,” Chanson turned to the woman who was carefully folding Link’s champion tunic -- cleaned and mended, waiting to be worn again when Link returned.  If he returned.

“Yes, you may have it,” Impa answered his unspoken question, her eyes gentle and understanding.  “Keep it for him. Pass it along when it is time, but may it bring you comfort until then.”

 

* * *

 

 

“And so I pass this image on to you, young Kass, along with my unfinished mission,” the old Sheikah poet smiled with wistful regret.  “I had hoped to see Link again and play for him, but my time is growing short.”

“Do not speak so, Master,” the young Rito bard begged his teacher, but he took the picture of the champions from Chanson and gazed upon the images his teacher held so dear.  “You must stay with us.”

“I feel it though...the time of the hero’s awakening is nigh,” Chanson told his student, “and my time grows short.  I will not be able to finish my task.”

Kass glanced at Vah Medoh in the distance, churning the winds, which had grown more violent recently.  The air crackled with electricity and anticipation. He ruffed up his feathers.

“I am ready for the challenge, Teacher,” Kass told him firmly.  He ran the tip of his wing over his instrument. “I have your notes and your wisdom to guide me.  I will search high and low for the final ancient melodies to bring our hero back.”

Chanson smiled fondly at the Rito boy, really a man now.  What a joy Kass had been to him, a true kindred spirit. Chanson could not have loved Kass more if he had been his own son.

“Yes, the time of reckoning is near, so don’t wait, young Kass.  A song can be immortal but we are not. Time is not on our side, not like for some.”  The old man chuckled and gestured to the photograph. “No heroes, we, but it is our sacred task to remember the hero, and hopefully, when the time comes, help him remember himself.  Only when he joins with our beautiful princess, fighting for so long, only then will there be hope for us and for the ones we hold dear.”

Kass looked again at the picture he held, and Chanson’s withered hand gently touched the photograph, a final caress for his princess.

“Princess Zelda is so very beautiful, isn’t she Kass?” the old poet sighed.  “I hope that you may see her one day for yourself.”

Kass nodded.  “She is beautiful, indeed, Master.”

“Maybe though, not so as beautiful as Amali, no?” Chanson gave a creaky laugh, a sparkle in his milky eye.

Kass smiled and shook his head.  Amali was no princess, but she was dearer to him than anything in the whole of Hyrule.  Even the lovely Princess Zelda could not compare in his eye.

Chanson reached out to lay a fatherly hand on Kass’s wing.

“Before you begin your quest, my dearest Kass, go to her,” the old poet’s wrinkled face was lit with love for his student.  He would share this one last piece of wisdom before he left this land for good. He may still be an old fool, but let the boy learn from his foolishness.  

“The prosaic life and poetry are not mutually exclusive,” Chanson explained.  “Even a hero must have a home to fight for, and his love waiting for him when the battle is done.  Do not privilege the sacred over the beautiful mundanity of a life well lived. The balance of the two is where the power of the goddess lies.  Give Amali a home and children and learn to sing the kinds of songs I’ve never known.”

 

* * *

 

 

His master was very wise, Kass reflected, not so very many years later, looking out from the landing in Rito Village, playing a gentle air on his accordian.  What beautiful new songs he and his darling wife sang as they made their home and brought forth their five beautiful daughters. They anchored him and gave him the drive to finish his quest even when the road was hard and dangerous.  The bard searched for the songs, searched for the hero so his own beloved family might know a better day without the threat of Ganon. Without them, how easy it would have been to give up when hardships came. 

Now, though, light had returned to Hyrule, and Link and the princess herself had come to Rito Village, hand in hand, to give him their gratitude and so that Kass might honor his teacher by playing Chanson’s final song, a tribute to the love the hero and princess shared, and a tribute to the man whose music played such an important role in reuniting them.

Princess Zelda wept when the final note of Chanson’s song rang out in the clear, spring-fresh air, and her thanks were effusive.  She started to kneel before him, but thinking better of it, she stood and threw her arms around Kass, letting her embrace show him what could not be conveyed with royal formality.  Embarrassed but oh-so-very pleased, Kass looked up to find Link grinning at him before his gaze shifted to the princess, a loving light in his eye. 

Yes, his teacher had been right.  Link loved the princess just as she had loved him.  The hero did not say much, but it was etched in every glance and every movement. 

The princess was very beautiful, Kass had to agree with Master Chanson, but she was a little different than Kass had imagined.  He had seen the image of her in her royal gown, and he had listened avidly to Chanson’s memories of the lovely Zelda. He had expected an ethereal, golden princess, and certainly, there was something of that in her.

However, in her worn leather boots and travel pants and with her pouches slung about her waist, there was more of a no-nonsense scholar about her.  She was curious and impulsive -- her hug for the bard being just one example -- and not afraid of getting her hands dirty. In the short time Zelda and Link had been in the village, the princess had gone fishing with Cree, mixed up a fruit cake with Genli, and had a tickle fight with Kotts and Notts.  As much as the Princess and the Hero were a perfect romantic match, Zelda herself was quite the practical match for the adventurous Link.

Zelda and Link would be leaving the next day.  They had yet to visit the Gorons, and Zelda was very eager to meet Daruk’s grandson.  They had spent this final evening with Kass, Amali and their daughters, singing the old songs and making up new ones.  Their merriment lasted far into the night until Amali insisted that it was time for bed and shooed the girls to their nests.

Kass assured his beloved wife that he would join her soon, but inspiration had struck, so he lingered on the landing, humming to himself and trying to capture a theme that was just beyond his grasp.

Before long, Kass could hear the princess and her knight, ever so faint on the night breeze, making their own music, a variation particular to Hylians but a melody Kass recognized well enough.  It was a good song to hear. It was a time for love and rebirth, for the disembodied goddess of light to take her place as an earth mother, fecund and fruitful. Time for the warrior to father the next generation of princesses who would one day join with their own heroes and once again triumph against darkness.

It was beautiful old song to be rediscovered again and again, but his own song would wait for another day.  His wife was waiting.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ironically, this part of the story was the first thing I wrote, imagining Chanson having a conversation with Kass, and I fully intended to post this June 2018. Then, real life decided that I needed to be kicked around a little (actually, a lot), so this last part languished for the last 6 months or so. Writing a few one-shots for something else gave me the boost I needed to finish this. I hope it did not disappoint.
> 
> Thank you to all of you who have followed this story and left such wonderful comments. Engaging with you all has been one of the best parts of writing this.

**Author's Note:**

> I THINK I know where I am going with this...


End file.
